


One in a Thousand Stars

by ie_heretic



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: A little bit of humour, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Bra is Bulla, Death from Old Age, Family Bonding, Future, Gen, Loss, POV Third Person, Past Character Death, Protective Siblings, Sibling Bonding, Siblings, Time Travel, Wordcount: 30.000-50.000, a little bit of feels, extra time travel, partially Dragon Ball Super compliant and partially not, wibbly wobbly timey wimey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-18
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 03:54:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 42,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6888955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ie_heretic/pseuds/ie_heretic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Trunks and his sister accidentally mess around with their mother's time machine, they find themselves transported to another era – but instead of the past, they're sent spiralling years into the future. </p><p>Trapped in a strange place, and not able to leave until their transportation is fixed, the two siblings decide to make the most of their situation. Unfortunately, paradoxes become the last thing on their minds when they realize that even gods among men cannot conquer what time steals from everyone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A'right. So there's some elements of Super in this, but also elements of GT (despite my severely lacking knowledge with that series). Elements of Super meaning it doesn't follow the GT storyline, I just used some of the character information and stuff from it.  
> This was originally a one-shot, but I felt like adding some chapters gave it more depth.  
> \---  
> This is also posted on Fanfiction dot net.

It was a holiday, and naturally, everyone would be in attendance at Capsule Corporation for the festivities. The new year was a big thing, and the Briefs family was known for adding extravagance when it came to already big things. 

Trunks, who worked for his mother's company, was of course given the day off. His career had taken up a lot of his life lately – not that he always minded, there were only so many alien battles one could take – and he was grateful for the reprieve. It was a way to get the Briefs, the Sons, and friends of both families in one place; holidays were perfect excuses. There hadn't been a convenient enemy from outer space to bring them together in a long while, and though none of them had forgotten what they'd been through in the past, everyone leading separate lives had caused the group to grow apart a little. 

Unless you were Son Goku, then camaraderie with persons you almost never saw was second nature. The man acted like the heydays of the fighting group were yesterday, and he used his time to pursue what perhaps was his only passion – training. Most everyone else had settled down to an ordinary life, with a little of the old zest left in it when free time permitted. Excluding Goten, who was a lot like his father and had difficulty holding a real job. At least he could be counted on to show up for every event.

Guffaws of both father and son could be heard echoing from the porch. Trunks assumed Krillin, or maybe someone else, had cracked a lame joke and sent the two sprawling.

Despite that it was winter, the beautiful night sky had lured everyone outside to socialize. The stargazing was not as spectacular so close to the city, but it captivated the party-goers, enough for them to feel at home in the cold, open air. The light of the moon hadn't obstructed the view of the constellations in years, and the endless night heavens above conjured a sense of freedom. 

Trunks, content with being under a roof, took a sip of his drink. 

He'd sequestered himself indoors, away from the social business going on outside. It wasn't out of shyness, but a natural lull in connection that he'd been experiencing more often lately. 

The door creaked open, but Trunks chose not to look at the person entering.

“Hey Trunks,” came Bulma's voice, “have you seen Bulla?”

He turned to meet his mother's eyes. They'd grown a bit duller as she aged, closer to fading denim than to the sky-blue orbs they'd once been.

“Come to think of it, I haven't,” he said. Bulla was usually the self-instated centre of attention. Though she had her good qualities, she was spoiled rotten by both her parents, and her vanity knew no bounds. To top it off, she was just entering her hormonal teen years, and her worst tantrums often involved throwing full sized trees at her brother when he irked her. Feminine propriety be damned when you enraged the half-Saiyan daughter of Vegeta. 

“If you're gonna mope inside, at least make yourself useful and go find her. Bring her out to see the stars with us. They're beautiful tonight,” said Bulma. 

“I've already seen the stars before, mom. Unless a spaceship is flying down at us from them, they don't need my attention. But I'll fetch Bulla for you.”

Bulma shook her head and retreated back outside, clicking the door shut behind her.

Trunks's ability to sense ki, while not as often used now, was still something he could call upon at will. It was no trouble to detect his sister's energy, pulsing from below him and off to the side a little ways. That meant she was in the basement. 

He set his drink down on the table as he passed it, making for a set of stairs he'd been down a thousand times. 

He took his time descending the steps, in no hurry. If he had been, he'd have used the elevator, or accessed his heightened speed to arrive within seconds. 

The main room of his mother's basement lab was littered with gizmos, unfinished projects or tech in need of repair. Some tasks were menial, and she had hired staff to deal with the excess chores and tinkering. Some she took on herself, and all those projects were kept in the space present before Trunks. 

There was no sign of Bulla in the room, and her ki signature seemed to be in a further place still. 

Passing through a doorway to an adjacent section of the lab, he approached the door that his mother always kept locked with a keypad. Somewhat redundant, when every other member of the family could break down the barrier with ease, but should that occur, it would be obvious who the perpetrator was. 

Trunks found the door ajar, whole and not opened by force. Bulla must have figured out the key code somehow, but that wasn't anything too surprising, considering who her parents were. She'd neglected to re-lock the door behind her, just as she often neglected to return cold goods to the refrigerator or books to their rightful place. Trunks was meticulous about cleaning up after himself and he'd still gotten yelled at more. His parents had become softer, lenient over the years. 

The no-longer-locked room contained all Bulma's projects labelled secret or dangerous, or just untouchable to anyone but her. For all their inherited brains, neither Trunks nor Bulla could always make sense of her creations. Gohan was brilliant too, but not in the same way, and with Dr. Briefs having left the living a few years back, only Bulma herself remained to understand the mechanisms behind her technology. For all his strategic smarts, Vegeta had trouble holding anything finer than a pencil without snapping it, so he was no help. 

The room was still sizable, considering there was not much in it. White desks lined the walls in a streamlined fashion, uniform and pleasing to the eye.

What drew Trunks's attention was the large, egg-like contraption near the centre of the room, propped up by three attached leg segments.

It was a time machine, created after Future Trunks had arrived and inspired his mother from the past to make her own. Equipped with better technology than the future counterpart, the device was supposedly manufactured with far more advanced methods than the first. 

They'd never tested it, and most of the group had agreed to leave it as it was – a decorative prototype. Trunks assumed his mother had made it just to prove she could, even if she never planned to use it other than an emergency. 

The glass hatch was open on the time machine, and a pair of cream, stick-sized legs adorned with hot pink boots dangled over the side. 

Due to her half-Saiyan biology, Bulla was predisposed to a more muscular build, even at her age. Well aware of this fact, and not desiring to stand out from her peers, she never indulged in vigorous exercise, and thus maintained a svelte and girlish figure. 

“Hey, squirt,” Trunks said in her direction. When she didn't answer, he strode up to the pod and poked her boot. 

“Quit it,” she hissed, and he grinned. 

“Of the few of mom's projects we're expressly forbidden to play around with, you choose this one,” Trunks taunted. 

Bulla waved her feet in the air, in high hopes of landing a successful hit on her brother without actually moving. Her legs swung in useless motions a few feet from Trunks's head. 

“You gonna come outside? Mom's looking for you, and Pan and Marron are there,” he asked her. Again, no reply. 

Taking matters into his own hands, he hopped the side and settled into the alcove with her.

“Hey! Get out, you brute! There's barely enough room in here as it is,” whined Bulla. She'd had to crunch her body in an awkward position to accommodate for the extra person, tucking her legs back in. The two of them shimmied around until they both sat with their knees curled, and Trunks with his arms spread out on the lip of the dashboard. The machine had a single seat, designed for one occupant, and the squeeze made Bulla irritable. 

“Awfully touchy today, huh princess? Did one of your boyfriends break up with you again?”

She stuck her tongue out at him.

“Keep rolling your eyes, maybe you'll find a brain back there.”

“You suck,” she replied, pouting. 

Trunks adjusted his position in the cockpit again while Bulla glared daggers at him.

“Y'know, it's actually pretty comfy in here, I could get used to it. I see why you chose this spot.”

“It's not comfy now. You take up too much space. You ought to lay off the weights a little, _bro,_ ” she said, emphasizing the last word in a sarcastic way.

“You ought to lay off that attitude. It's very unbecoming for a princess.” Trunks noticed she had her phone clutched in her lap. She'd probably been twiddling her thumbs away on the thing until he's arrived. 

“Who were you texting?” He asked.

“No one.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I'm serious. I was playing a game.”

“Is that game a lot more interesting than the party?”

She pursed her lips and didn't answer. 

“If you don't want to feel squished, you'll have to get out of the machine, because I'm not going to,” said Trunks. “How much do I have to move around until you get annoyed and go upstairs?”

“I don't wanna go upstairs. I hardly even know those people that well.”

“You see a lot of them whenever we have parties here.”

“Whatever.”

“... If it's any consolation, I feel like I barely know those people now too.”

“You don't like them either?”

“Nah. A bunch of stuffy adults talking about boring adult things, am I right?”

“You're an adult. You almost run Capsule Corp by yourself.”

“Yeah, I suppose I do. I get bored with it sometimes. Are you planning on getting out anytime soon?”

When she didn't reply again, Trunks shifted, reaching to close the glass dome hatch of the machine over them. 

“What was that for?”

“So we can talk. Have an official talk space. You know. All the cool kids are doing it.”

“You're not cool, you're annoying. And I don't really wanna talk to you.”

“If you don't want to talk to me, pretend I'm someone who you _can_ talk to about why you're really down here.”

Her round, electric blue eyes that matched the shade of his own narrowed at him.

“If we take too long, mom might send dad to come find us. You'd better be out with it before then,” Trunks said. 

“I already told you, I don't want to hang out with those people. Or even Pan. Plus, it's probably cold as hell out there.”

“I think that's an oxymoron, squirt.”

“Stop calling me that! And I know what an oxymoron is!”

“What is it, then?”

“Get out.”

“No.”

“Get out! You're so annoying!” At that, she mustered as much of a shove as she could in the tight space. 

There wasn't much force behind the hit, but Trunks found himself inching up onto the dashboard to avoid her flailing limbs that followed. 

He wasn't sure if she'd nudged him onto it, or he'd misplaced his grip, but he was hitting buttons and all of a sudden the machine came to life. 

The two siblings froze in place as an electric hum began buzzing through the air, and then they both realized it was from the machine. 

Their eyes met in shock when they felt it wobble off the ground. 

“What did you do?!” Screeched Bulla. “Did you turn it on?!”

“It wasn't me!” He exclaimed. “You were hitting me like a crazy person and you probably smacked one of the buttons!”

Both of the siblings tried to wedge themselves into a position so they could see the screen. Bulla, being the more flexible of the two, manoeuvred herself to view the display, pinning her brother to the back while she did so. 

“What does it say?”

“I – I don't know! It's a bunch of numbers!”

“Can you recognize any of them? A date, a year? Is this thing going to take off with us in it to Kami-knows-when or is it on standby?!”

The time machine slowly lifted higher into the air. Trunks couldn't be sure through his sister's panic, but he could swear that the view outside the glass was looking foggier by the second. 

“No no no! How do I make it stop?!” Bulla cried, panicking and selecting buttons to push at random.

“Stop touching the buttons! You're making it worse!”

“Land, you cursed thing! I didn't even think this machine worked!”

The teen girl's hand smacked a panel too hard, and a brief fizz was heard, and a tiny stream of smoke to go with it. 

“Bulla!”

“Stop screaming at me! I know what I'm doing!”

“No you don't!”

Trunks yanked his sister back from the front and compacted himself there instead. The machine was shaking a little, but he could clearly read that there were indeed a lot of numbers on the screen. One of the larger ones was going up, a steady five digits per second. 

Trunks couldn't be sure, he'd only looked for a second, but he thought it might have been the year. 

He pushed one of the largest buttons on the control panel, in hopes it would either stop the machine or send them somewhere – or some when – close. 

As their mother's lab faded into oblivion around them, they realized it was the former, and Trunks hoped this was something he could fix. 

Stranded in a grassy field, minutes after their landing and analyzing the area of panel that Bulla had struck, Trunks realized with desperation that it wasn't something he could fix at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this first chapter not having slept in the last thirty-six hours (isn't insomnia wonderful?) so if you notice a weird mistake, point it out.


	2. Chapter 2

“This is totally your fault!” Bulla shouted at her brother as he perused the damage to the controls that had been wrought.

She stood with her feet planted in the grass that came up to her calves, hands on her hips and glaring up at Trunks. The man was still in the open cockpit, feeling more helpless than he let on, and trying in vain to ignore the whining thirteen-year-old who wasn't helping the situation.

It had become obvious that their panicked scramble had done more than a little wear and tear on the dashboard. It was adorned with dents, omitting unsettling whirring noises, and who knows what kind of wreckage underneath the panel. He didn't want to peel the thin metal off and look for fear of making it worse.

Trunks pursed his lips and stared, willing the machine to fix itself. Had he known how to drive the thing in the first place, he may have felt more optimistic – at the moment, he figured rescue was about as likely as the Son family going vegan. 

At least he knew where the off button was now. Trunks hit the switch with a resigned sigh, wishing his sister could be shut off with the same ease. She was on a tirade about something or other – he wasn't sure what because he'd tuned her out – and sounded frustrated with her brother overall. 

“Are you even _listening_ to me?!”

“Sorry, what did you say? I wasn't listening.”

“You are such a jerk!” Bulla stomped her foot in the grass. “This is why you keep getting dumped.” 

“Yeah, those snippy comments of yours? Not the least bit constructive to our situation.”

Trunks stood up in the machine and looked around. It was daytime, wherever they were, the sky dotted with only a single, fluffy cloud. The field they were in was coated in lush grass, and beyond that there was forest in every direction. He could sense life forms in the far distance, but none that seemed familiar. 

“Well? Can you see anything?”

“Not really. I could fly up higher for a better look, maybe. I think we're not too far from a city or something though, can you sense that pool of energy?”

Bulla squinted, like she did whenever she was concentrating. “I guess. I dunno about your definition of “too far,” though.” 

There was a brief gap in conversation before Bulla spoke in a less demeaning tone.

“So, where do you think we are? I mean, Capsule Corp isn't here, so we're not in the recent past or near future. Right?”

“Since I have no idea how to read the display on the time machine, that's entirely possible. Speaking of which, you hit that thing pretty hard and I think it's broken.”

“Like, how broken? You can fix it, right?”

“Uh...” Trunks shrugged and hopped down to stand on the grass. 

“... You're kidding me.”

Bulla face-palmed, then ran her hands through her fine blue hair. 

“I can't believe this. And we don't even know where we are! With our stupid luck, we probably wound up in the freaking Jurassic! Any minute now, a pterodactyl's gonna swoop down and gobble us up!"

“As happy as seeing you enthusiastic about history makes me, pterodactyl's weren't quite that big. Though a decently sized velociraptor would have no trouble with a pip-squeak like you.”

“You mean those ones with the big claws?!”

“Yep, a dinosaur with big claws, imagine that. Though at this point I'd take anything to stop your screaming.”

“How can you be so calm? Oh my Kami, nobody's even gonna know what happened to us!”

“Because we're not in the past, Bulla. Look.” The teen followed her brother's finger and looked up. A plane flew overhead, and Bulla felt silly for not noticing it herself. 

For extra confirmation, she pulled out her cellphone from her pocket and turned the screen on. She had one bar of service, but it was service nonetheless. 

“You were about to hyperventilate and I didn't wanna carry you around. I was having fun with that, though. If you're that scared of dinosaurs, you should know there's still a few living by Mount Paozu, if you're ever interested in a good cardio workout.”

_“Grr...”_

Trunks changed the topic before she could complain any further. “It's possible that we moved location too, so that explains why we're in the woods somewhere and not still in the basement. Unless we're very, very far in the future and they've renovated the entire spot for a park reservation, which I highly doubt,” he said.

Bulla's face brightened at the prospect. 

“Well, that plane looked pretty normal, didn't it? Maybe we didn't travel that far ahead. We should try to find home,” she said. 

“Yeah. As long as we haven't left the country, Capsule Corporation shouldn't be hard to locate. I'm sure we can just ask someone directions if need be.”

“I thought men didn't know how to ask for directions.”

“Alright. You can ask for them then.” 

Bulla crossed her arms, unimpressed.

Trunks looked up at the time machine in thought. 

“I guess we should put it back in its capsule for now. Mom said something about it needing to recharge, but I don't know how that works either, so until we find someone who does we should store it.” He considered that the amount of charge may have had some limit on how far they'd gone forward as well, giving him hope that it was within a twenty year radius, at least. Ten if they were lucky, five if it was a miracle. 

Bulla nodded her agreement, and with the click of a button the machine became a small pill in the grass. Trunks scooped it up and tucked it into his pocket, making note of which one he kept it in. Then he turned to face his sister again.

“Ready?” He asked.

“For what?”

“Well, I don't know about you, but I'm definitely not walking all the way to the city. I can't imagine your shoes being that comfortable, either. I'll carry you.” Bulla could fly, albeit not well. Enough to save herself from a fall, but she wasn't inclined to practice her technique often.

“As if I would walk. You're not going to drop me though, right?”

Trunks feigned insult. “Me, allow my precious sister to hurtle to her certain doom on my watch? What would our parents think?”

“Daddy would beat you up, for sure.”

“I think mom would be happy to be rid of you.”

“You're jealous 'cause I'm the favourite.”

“You're the favourite because you're about as menacing as a stuffed rabbit. Let's go, princess.”

She scowled at him, but let him scoop her up bridal style before they ascended into the sky. 

He made certain not to fly too fast, lest he batter them with the wind currents, but kept his pace steady. The clear skies and the mild air made for a pleasant flight, but as it had been nighttime when they'd left home, his biological clock protested the change in scenery. Here, it was perhaps the early afternoon. 

From his new height, he could see skyscrapers on the horizon. The position of the mountain range by the metropolis had him almost certain that it was West City, but he couldn't be sure until they were there. Going at their speed, he figured it would be a bit of a wait until they arrived, so there was little to do but make small talk or stay silent. 

After a while of Bulla's uncharacteristic muteness, he prodded her with a question.

“So... do you regret not being straightforward with me about what was bugging you?”

In response, she elbowed Trunks in the ribs, as hard as she could from her angle.

“That's not a nice thing to do to the person carrying you hundreds of feet in the air.”

“You said you wouldn't drop me.”

“I didn't use those words specifically, did I?”

“If you drop me and I die, I will haunt you and your cat for all eternity. I won't haunt your wife 'cause you're gonna be alone forever.”

“We could always revive you with the Dragon Balls. Does plummeting to your death count as dying of “natural causes?” Also, don't bring Darcy into this, she's innocent.”

“She's way fatter than a normal cat should be. And have you ever looked a cat square in the eyes? They're definitely not innocent.”

“Maybe you've got me on that one. They're kinda like land owls, aren't they...?”

Bulla went quiet for a minute before she squirmed in her brother's grip.

“I'm bored. How long is this going to take?”

“If I fly any faster, it's definitely going to mess up your hair. How about we play a game in the meantime, like I-Spy?” 

“Eh... Okay. But I get to go first.”

“Alright. Go ahead.”

“I spy... something that's green.”

“Is it a tree?”

“No.”

“I give up.”

“You're not allowed to give up until I say so.”

“Ugh. Fine. Do the glow-in-the-dark numbers on your wristwatch count as green?”

 

\---

 

Perhaps thirty minutes later, the two siblings touched down within walking distance of the city. 

“Okay. We're here. Can I give up now?”

“Yes. Do you wanna know what it was?”

“I'm a little numb from all the guessing at this point. So not really.”

“It was my socks. They're green.”

“Bulla, I can't see your socks. You're wearing boots.”

“Well, I know what colour they are. So it counts as fair.”

Trunks sighed loudly. “Fine, whatever. Let's just concentrate on the task at hand now, okay?”

Bulla huffed and crossed her arms, but proceeded to follow her brother the remaining distance to the city. 

The two came out from the forest along the side of a highway. After waiting for a single car to pass, Trunks checked in both directions and led Bulla across the pavement. Getting hit would cause more damage to the vehicle and the driver than to the two half-Saiyans, but Trunks preferred to err on the side of caution and not make an unnecessary scene. 

Once they'd crossed, Trunks tried again to detect any familiar ki signatures. With the mass of energy ahead of them, the man doubted he'd be able to sense anyone he knew even if they were there. There were simply too many people crowded in one place. 

Taking stock of the city that loomed before him, he also realized that none of it yet seemed familiar – even the cars parked here and there didn't look quite right. There wasn't a newspaper stand in sight, and considering the state of the industry – and if they really were in the future – he doubted they'd find something so convenient. 

Trunks felt disheartened, but didn't let it show. His sister was counting on him to be her support, if her sudden cooperation to following him around was any indication. 

“Bulla, don't wander off, okay? I know you can take care of yourself, but to be honest I don't recognize anything yet and it's not a good idea for us to separate. There's too many people here and it'll be hard to find you if you get lost.”

“I won't wander off.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Trunks let go of his loose hold on her wrist, took a deep breath, and continued along the sidewalk. 

Few people gave the siblings more than a passing look, but neither of the duo was concerned with that. Their eyes were scanning buildings, street names, anything that could signal to them where home was, if it still existed. 

“There seems to be more apartment buildings, doesn't there...?” Said Bulla after they'd walked a block. Nothing looked like the West City Trunks knew, so he couldn't be sure if she was right, but he nodded anyway. “At least there's no flying cars.” 

They passed a series of street vendors and turned a corner. An intersection, heavy with traffic, greeted their eyes, and Trunks became elated when he recognized one of the street names. 

“Hey, I think I might know where we are,” said Trunks. “Do you see the street name?” He turned to look at his sister. 

Like a bucket of cold water down his back, he realized she wasn't there. 

“Bulla?” He said to the open air.

His eyes scanned the area around him. A group of construction workers milled nearby, a pair of teenagers waited at a bus stop, everyone else was a sea of movement. A flock of businessmen brushed past him, irritable that he was blocking the way. 

“I just told her not to wander off,” Trunks mumbled to himself through gritted teeth. His stomach sank with every second his sister didn't reappear, and he had no choice but to retrace his steps back the way he'd come. 

Peeking back around the corner, his hopes were dashed once again when a familiar head of blue hair did not present itself. 

“Okay Trunks, don't panic,” he said to himself. Telling himself to stay calm was usually followed by behaving in the exact opposite manner, but he forced his heart rate to slow by taking deep breaths. 

He turned back around, letting fear settle in for the first time since they'd arrived, and nearly jumped into the air in shock. 

Bulla stood there, munching on an apple and looking bored. 

“Oh my god,” Trunks said. 

“What? I was hungry.”

“I thought I told you not to go anywhere! You almost had me in cardiac arrest!”

Bulla was unfazed, her only response a nonchalant shrug. 

Trunks rubbed his hand on his face, reminded himself that sororicide was frowned upon in the civilized world, and scowled. Instead of berating his sister further, he chose to glare at the food she was devouring. 

“Where did you get that?”

“From one of the vendors. They won't miss it. Here, I have two,” she answered, offering him a second copy of the offending fruit. With the size of the bites she was taking of hers, Trunks wondered how she didn't mess up her lipstick. 

When he didn't answer, Bulla rolled her eyes. “If you keep frowning, your face will get stuck like daddy's is. Just eat it.”

“Did you steal them?”

“If this is the future, I don't think your money will work. So yeah, I took it without paying. It was nighttime when we left home and I'm super hungry.”

“Bulla...”

“If you aren't gonna eat it, I'll eat them both,” she said through a mouthful of fruit. “Your call.”

After a moment's deliberation, Trunks took the apple. 

“When we get home, you are going to be in so much trouble.”

“I'm gonna tattle on you first. It's your fault we're here anyway, and besides, I pretty much get off scott-free because I'm cute.”

“Yeah, we'll see how far that gets you in life, squirt.” Trunks gestured with his chin to the nearby intersection.

“Do you see that? I know that street. It runs through a lot of the city though, but it's a start. But _don't – wander – off – again._ Got it?”

Bulla agreed, but before Trunks could move ahead she stopped him by placing a hand on his chest. 

“Ladies first,” she said, and he let her take the lead. She knew the city as well as he did, so he trusted her to notice if anything else was familiar. If he walked behind her, he could keep an eye on her as well. 

After they passed the crosswalk, Trunks ate his apple as he deliberated what to do next. Meandering around wouldn't get them anywhere fast – it seemed best to ask for directions at this point. The minimal knowledge of their current location wasn't enough to lead them to Capsule Corp. 

Bulla took short steps, so in a few long strides he'd caught up to her. 

“Hey, I think we should stop for directions. Nothing else is looking familiar and this street goes on for a while.”

“Oh. 'Kay. I'll follow you then.”

Scanning the crowd, Trunks eyed the first stationary person he could see. A thirty-something woman was tapping her foot in impatience, leaning against a lamppost a few metres away. 

“What about that woman?”

“Her?”

“Yes. Don't point.”

“You ask her.”

“Why me? I thought I wasn't qualified to ask for directions.”

“'Cause she's, like, even older than you. You should do the adult talking.”

“I'm only twenty-seven. That's not that old.”

“Yes it is. Guys start growing beards and stuff at that age.”

“I... I genuinely have no response to that. You know you surprise me sometimes, and not in a good way.”

“Whatever. You're not gonna grow a beard, are you?”

“I – no – y'know what, this is way off topic and I have no idea how you manage to derail our conversations so fast.” 

“Well, that lady's gone now anyway.” Bulla grinned. “Mission accomplished!”

Trunks looked up, and confirmed for himself that the woman had indeed vanished.

“Excelled work, princess. Now someone else will have to be the victim in helping us complete our ridiculous, self-inflicted quest.”

“Hey, yeah, it kind of is like a quest, like the ones you get in video games! Uh – not that I play video games, those are for nerds...”

Trunks grinned. “Busted. Who would've thought little miss Briefs was a sucker for World of Warcraft?”

“I don't play World of War-Crap!”

“Whatever. Stay right here, I'm going to ask that man over there for directions instead.” A middle-aged man had stopped to clean his glasses and Trunks took the opportunity to approach him.

“Uh, excuse me – you wouldn't happen to know the way to Capsule Corporation, would you?”

The man looked up. “Ah, yes, I do.” Trunks listened with rapt attention while the man gestured the directions they should take, the half-Saiyan relieved that Capsule Corp still existed. He thanked the stranger profusely before returning to where Bulla was waiting. 

“Capsule Corp isn't that far. We can make it there in around two hours.”

“Ugh, but that's so much walking...”

“Well, I guess it is past your bedtime back home.”

“Hey!”

“I'm being serious. What time was it when we left?”

“I dunno. But if it's that long of a walk, I guess we should get going.”

“You are being very cooperative today. Who are you and what have you done with my spitfire sister?”

“Let's just go already!”

 

\---

 

Later, after four new rounds of I-Spy and Bulla's fifty-third time complaining that her feet were getting tired, she halted mid-whine and pointed. 

“Look, look! Trunks, it's Capsule Corp!”

Up ahead, a polished chrome building, removed somewhat from the surrounding architecture, stood emblazoned with a familiar double-C. It didn't look at all like the one they remembered, but that didn't stop Bulla from forgetting her sore legs and jogging the rest of the way there. Trunks followed suit to keep up. 

“Hey, whoa, hold on,” he said as they reached the pathway leading to the building. It was retreated in, past a manicured lawn and a small fountain. There was only a singular, office-type establishment, instead of the complex Trunks was familiar with, but it was far better than anything they'd come across yet.

“You can't go running in there like that. And I don't think we should get our hopes up too high – this place looks a lot different than ours, right?”

“Yeah, so?”

“There's no guarantee anyone in there will know who we are. It looks like it might just be an office, so I don't know how much anyone inside will be able to tell us.”

Bulla pouted for the umpteenth time that day. “Fine.”

As Trunks began walking, Bulla reached out and pinched a section of the back of his shirt – her way of clinging on with dignity. 

When they reached the entryway, Trunks was careful to use a gentle touch on the glass doors. He was nervous, and when he got nervous he was prone to grip things too hard and break them. He was thankful no one's bones had been the victim yet. 

The foyer was well furnished and tidy, and only a few people moved around inside. No one took notice of either Trunks or his sister, and the older sibling was disappointed. Though no one seemed to know his face, it could still mean either one thing or another.

Going with the most obvious choice of action, Trunks moved in line behind the desk, Bulla in tow, and waited for the man in front of him to finish with the secretary. 

After several minutes, the man in front moved away, and Trunks stepped up to the desk. 

"Anything I can help you with today, sir?" The secretary asked politely. 

He wasn't sure how to ask for the year without seeming like he belonged in a mental hospital, so he asked something that wouldn't seem so out of the ordinary.

"Would you happen to know if the Briefs family still owns this company?"

"Yes, they do."

"Ah. Good, that's good. I'm from out of town and a friend of mine worked here when I last saw him. I'm trying to reconnect with him, but I've been having trouble. Is there any way you could look up a name for me?”

"Unless he worked in this office branch, I'm afraid I can't help you. But if he is or was a lab technician, you may be able to find something if you go directly there – I don't have the authority to give out that information myself, unless you have an access chip.”

Trunks, as a plan B if he wasn't miraculously recognized, had been planning on asking for his own name, or even his mother's. Considering how the Briefs tried to stay out of the limelight, he guessed he was lucky he'd gotten confirmation that they still owned the company at all. Not only that, but it appeared that Capsule Corp no longer used membership cards, and thus he had no way of searching the system himself. 

“Uh, no, he wasn't a lab guy unfortunately. But thanks anyway.”

The secretary nodded and focused her attention back to her computer. 

Trunks was floundering for what to do next, but his feet moved to take him back outside and his sister followed. 

Bulla stayed quiet until they left the building. 

“So that's it? You gave up after like, one question!”

“I know, I know. I didn't think that they wouldn't use cards anymore, otherwise I would've asked for more information. I'm sorry, Bulla, but I don't think we'll get much help here.”

Bulla stared down at her feet, but when she met her brother's eyes again she was determined. “So what now, then?”

“Plan C, I guess.”

“What's plan C? And what happened to A and B?”

“You just saw the total failure of plan B. Plan A was everything before that.”

“You're bad at planning.”

“I didn't exactly have time to prepare for being sent to the future. And plan C – I guess it's our final resort, aside from waiting for a miracle... Or, I could always go Super Saiyan, blow a few craters here and there, hope to attract the attention of someone we know. I'd rather not have my face plastered all over the news though, in the event that we get stuck here.”

Bulla smirked, but didn't laugh at Trunks's attempt at a joke. 

“Anyway, there is one other place we could go that should have some definite answers,” said Trunks.

“Where?”

“Mount Paozu. The mountains themselves are obviously still there, and I've been to the Son's house enough times, so I know exactly where to look.”

Bulla's expression soured. “Didn't you say there was still dinosaurs there?”

“Oh, come on, Gohan takes Pan to visit Goku there all the time. Or did. I actually don't know if the house will still be there, but it's our only good lead right now. If Goku's there, I should be able to sense him once we're close enough, or far away enough from the city, whichever comes first. He can help us.”

Twirling her hair in a nervous habit, her other arm crossed over her chest, Bulla considered their only course of action. Trunks could tell she was wearing out, whether the novelty of being in the future was already lost on her, or plain exhaustion and anxiety were taking their toll. Trunks himself was feeling the beginnings of tiredness, but his Saiyan blood could keep him going for a while, even when his circadian rhythm was thrown off. His sister, however, was barely out of childhood, and had done little training in the way of stamina. 

“We don't have many options left, princess. Look – I'll even carry you again. It's gonna be another long flight but you can nap through it if you want,” Trunks said, then added another statement as an afterthought. “I won't let any dinosaurs get near you or anything.”

She seemed hesitant, but she nodded. “I guess we have to walk all the way back out of the city first, though,” she said. 

“Not necessarily. If I can find a secluded spot, I can take off pretty quickly from the ground and get high enough before any onlookers will have time to think about it. We don't have to walk back.”

“Oh, thank Kami,” she said. “I guess I have no choice anyway, so Mount Paozu it is. Though I'm only going with you because you're helpless without me. I was gone for ten seconds earlier and you freaked out.”

“I give up arguing with you,” Trunks muttered before gesturing for her to follow him. 

Glancing around, he moved towards the first deserted place he spied that suited his needs. Crossing the road and leading Bulla with him, he ducked around a bank and into the alleyway beside it. 

The back street wrapped around, sheltering them further from prying eyes. The only problem was the narrow size, but the casualty of such an issue would merely be a few displaced trash cans. 

“Alright. You ready?” Trunks scooped up his sister again. 

“Hang on tight,” he warned her before summoning a swirl of energy around himself. Only a fraction of his true power was needed for the sudden burst of flight he was about to attempt. 

In a split second, they were jettisoning into the sky at breakneck speed, leaving a gust of air in their wake. 

“You can open your eyes now,” Trunks said once they were soaring above the city. He'd slowed to a reasonable pace once again, gaze focused on the mountain peaks he'd seen time and time again. The rock formations were bathed in orange light, as the hours spent wandering had utilized the afternoon, and sunset wasn't far off. The noticeable drop in temperature was another indication of the waning daylight – and an incentive to move faster, as it could get quite cold in the sky. 

“Let me know when we get there,” said Bulla, after she'd found the scenery unsatisfying and shut her eyes again. “Or if you sense anybody we know close by. Who knows, maybe we'll get lucky and they'll find us first.” 

Trunks narrowed his brows in thought, but didn't answer. He didn't want to get his hopes up too high, but he couldn't help anticipating what they would find at the childhood home of Son Goku.


	3. Chapter 3

At some point in their second flight, Bulla had given up trying to nap. She'd fallen asleep for a number of minutes, only to jerk awake when the instinctive part of her brain reminded her she was still in the air. 

Trunks had been eyeing the horizon, wary of the remaining daylight. He was tired, but knew his sister would be even more so. Their biological clocks were set somewhere in the middle of the night, not sundown – but all things considered, sleep would be a priority over food; Trunks estimated they could hold out on the latter until the following afternoon if need be. There were animals to hunt in the wilderness, so he wasn't worried for short-term necessities. 

“So? Can you sense if anyone is there?” Bulla asked in a drowsy voice. 

“I'm not sure,” he said. In truth, he couldn't sense anyone, but he didn't want to give up just yet. When it got dark, they would need somewhere to sleep, and even if the house was empty they could use it for shelter. For a long time, Gohan had lived with his family on the same property, but had built a newer dwelling a little ways away. Either building would do if they remained standing, or – if the siblings were lucky – still in use. 

“It's possible they're concealing their energy for some reason,” Trunks continued, though he doubted his own statement. “In any case, Son Goku has probably the best ki sensing in the universe, so if he's around, he'll know we're here.” 

Bulla, after ruminating for a moment, abruptly changed the subject.

"Isn't it confusing how they have their last name first?” She asked. “All the Sons do it. I tried asking Pan once, but she didn't really help much, and I figured it would be rude to ask her dad..."

Trunks was bemused, but followed her train of thought in his reply. "Some people put their family name first, and their given name after. It seems weird to you because not many people around here do it, but in some cultures it's quite normal."

"What about the Saiyans?"

Trunks paused again. It was a rare occasion that Bulla asked about her heritage. Perhaps her tiredness, or her will to focus away from their current situation, had spurned her interest in other topics. 

“I don't think Saiyans had last names. Dad doesn't have one – or he didn't, but I guess he uses mom's sometimes,” he replied. 

“How come he's the only one who uses his Saiyan name? Goku always calls himself Goku, no matter how many times daddy calls him Kakarot.”

“Yeah, well, everyone except dad has called him Goku his whole life. He was raised here with humans, like some sort of reverse Tarzan, I guess. Imagine if some jerk showed up from outer space and started calling you strange names.”

“Did – you just call daddy a jerk?”

“Well, uh, to be blunt, he kinda was at the time...”

“I know everybody says he was, like, forever ago, but they're all just stories. But that was before even you were born.”

“For the record, I was born for some of it. I was still a baby, though, but technically I played a part in the Cell Games, because future me did.” 

“Future you doesn't count. It's not the same person. And that was after Namek, right? Daddy turned good after Namek.”

While “kind” or “good” wouldn't be the first words Trunks would use to describe his father, Vegeta's journey towards bettering himself had indeed begun during and after the confrontation on Namek. 

Trunks could picture the disgust on his mother's face when she would speak of the events on Namek – she hadn't seen the battles the others reminisced about, only been tossed around by the after effects. Vegeta recalled the details of the situation with much more accuracy, but with no greater fondness. 

“He sacrificed himself to save us and try to destroy Majin Buu,” Trunks said. He gave a faint, wry smile at the memory. “I know that for sure.”

Trunks didn't know the extent of Bulla's knowledge when it came to their father's past. Trunks himself had only heard stories of the gang's adventures prior to the 25th World Martial Arts Tournament. He hadn't even met Goku until then, as the man had been dead for several years. Trunks had been told details about the past in increments as he'd aged.

“Buu is still around though, so... did daddy save the good one or something?”

“No. There was a lot more fighting in between when dad died and when Buu was actually defeated. Some of it's, uh, kinda muddled for me. Goku will remember it best, since he didn't get eaten or anything – unless you count when he and dad did it on purpose.”

“Maybe I'll ask Goku about it when we see him.”

“I'm sure he'd love to retell it for you. He'll probably even act some of it out, knowing him.” 

“Heh. Probably,” she said. “And then there was that thing with Beerus. You can tell me all about that yourself.”

“Don't even get me started. “That thing” kicked off with Earth nearly getting blown up by a space cat, and only escalated from there. How do you manage to top space cats?”

Bulla laughed. “That's what our families do, I guess. Make stuff crazy. Though not so much anymore. I think we're pretty normal now, though I also think Goku and daddy just do it for us. Be normal, I mean.”

“... Yeah. I suppose they do.” Trunks felt somber at the thought. It had also occurred to him that, if this was the future, it was possible that the two pure-blood Saiyans had left the planet behind at some point. They'd both done it in the past, for years at a time. Trunks didn't want to think about what it meant if no one he knew was left on Earth.

Looking down at the sweeping green underneath him, Trunks knew they were getting close to where the Son's house was – or used to be. He could see nothing from the air, even with his keen eyes, and decided it was time to set down on foot. 

He began his easy descent to the forest below, and Bulla didn't question him until they were below the tops of the trees. It was shadowed on the ground level, with only marginal spots of light peeking through the gaps in the overhead foliage. Night seemed much closer. 

Despite that the air was motionless, the surrounding chill was stronger than it had been in the windswept sky. Trunks landed with a soft crush of a few fallen leaves under his shoes.

“I'm getting worn out. I know it's around here somewhere, so now we're going to walk,” he explained.

“But I don't wanna _waaaaaaaaalk...”_ Bulla whined and hung off her brother's arm when he put her down. 

"Don't make me use my CEO voice."

"Oh no, what are you gonna do, fire me from my sister job?”

“Maybe. Kinda sick of dealing with you, so maybe I'll get my secretary to do it.” Trunks waggled his arm in a vain attempt to get his sister to let go. Giving up, he began peering around the nearby forest in curiosity, but his concentration shattered when Bulla's voice pierced it.

“Come on. I'm tired. I am not walking another step – carry me.”

“If you want something, you have to use your manners.”

Bulla relented her grip and stepped away, glaring. “Daddy says I don't have to use my manners with people that are beneath me.”

Trunks met Bulla's eyes in the dim light, blinking slowly. “Are you implying that I'm beneath you, or that everyone is beneath you? Because I didn't think “manners” was in your vocabulary until just now.”

“Stop being a jerk!”

“Princesses are supposed to be respectful, even if they're Saiyan princesses. And despite the fact that I've been carrying you around, need I remind you that I'm no third-class either. I might consider giving you a piggy-back if you ask nicely.” Trunks crossed his arms and stared in expectancy at his sister. 

Bulla folded her arms in an equal counter and turned up her nose. “Nevermind. Maybe I don't need you to carry me after all.”

“That's the spirit. Trekking through a dark forest on foot, in the unknown future and with your now affronted older brother – who, by the way, is your only protection from the local man-eating lizards – is sure to build some character.”

“Hmph. Just lead the way to the house.”

Trunks obliged, turning away as Bulla muttered something under her breath about velociraptors. 

“It's your own fault you can't go Super Saiyan,” said Trunks in response to her grumbling. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her pick up a leaf and attempt to throw it at him. It fluttered uselessly in the air and he suppressed a laugh. 

“Really, though, you should train with us sometime. Dinosaurs will become the least of your problems,” he said.

“I don't really wanna hang out with a bunch of shirtless brutes that think beating the crap out of each other is not only fun, but healthy for you.” 

“It is healthy; we're Saiyans. And we wear shirts when we fight.”

“Yeah, you start with them on – but as soon as it gets taken up a notch, it's guaranteed that somebody, at some point, will lose most or all of their shirt. Like the spandex wasn't bad enough.”

“Okay. So maybe a training gi or space spandex isn't for everybody. But that's not the point. Videl and Eighteen are fighters, and not only do they wear normal clothes, but they have normal lives on the side too.”

“Eighteen doesn't make Marron train, neither does Krillin. Videl and Gohan want whatever Pan wants, and – well, she's boyish, she likes that sort of thing.”

“You don't have to be boyish to like it.”

“Whatever. I'm not interested. There's already enough of you if the world is in danger, right?”

Trunks sighed. “I guess, but extra fighters never hurt, just in case. It's been so long since anything happened – it's more about all the potential you have and aren't ever going to use.”

“I don't know why you're the one lecturing me, when the only ones who train seriously anymore are Goku and daddy. And even daddy pretty much never bugs me about it.”

“That's because he spoils you.”

Trunks wasn't looking at his sister, but he knew she'd stuck her tongue out to help generate the ridiculous noise that was her response. 

Fifteen minutes of tromping later, it was clear that Bulla was struggling with the terrain. It was on a measure of an incline, and the few stones and sticks that littered the ground, paired with the twilight, were giving her trouble. As a half-Saiyan, she should have had excellent night vision, so Trunks assumed it was inexperience and exhaustion that was hindering her. But it was hindering him as well – they weren't gaining any ground fast. 

Trunks stopped where he was, and Bulla copied him a distance behind. 

“What?” She enquired. Her tone was flat and somewhat irritated. 

“We're not making very good time,” Trunks said. He voiced it like he was hoping an answer would spring itself into existence. 

“And what do you want me to do about it? You're the one who wouldn't carry me!”

Instead of using his words, as his mother would often remind him as a child, Trunks walked over to Bulla, reached for her and slung her over his shoulder in one swift movement. She hung there still for a moment in surprise, then began to squirm when her indignity sunk in. Trunks ignored her cries of “put me down” and “I'm gonna tell on you” and resumed his natural, quicker walking pace, pleased with his solution. 

“You did want me to carry you, didn't you?” Trunks asked when Bulla wouldn't stop complaining. She fell quiet after that, resigned to her fate as human luggage. 

 

\---

 

They'd been wandering for just long enough for Trunks to get concerned, when they came upon a small, secluded clearing. With the slight difficulty focusing his eyes in the dusk and the heavy foliage, he would almost have missed it, had he not known the place already. 

“I think we found it,” he said, swinging Bulla down from her perch. She went ahead of him the moment he set her down, wobbling a little as the feeling returned to her legs. 

Batting past the final strings of clingy vegetation, the siblings emerged into the glade. From the open area, the sky was a visible contrast of deep purples and blues, a mix of the siblings' tresses – but it wasn't the first sight they noticed.

There, like a beacon of familiarity, stood the Son's house. In the distance behind it, another building could be seen, similar in size and shape to the first. Both dwellings stood quiet and dark, untouched by what little light remained. 

Trunks sighed. Bulla was walking towards the nearest house, tugging her brother alongside. Their steps made soft noises in the grass, and Trunks couldn't help but notice there was no sign of the radish plot that was supposed to exist behind the building. 

When they were near enough to the front door, Bulla halted. A bird, disturbed by their presence, flew off from the roof close by, and the younger sibling tugged on her brother's wrist. 

Trunks reached around his sister and grasped the handle. It was locked. With a small amount of energy applied in only that area, he wedged the door free, letting it swing in a slow arc inwards. The whole house seemed to creak at the action, and Bulla winced. 

The air that escaped from within to meet them was almost colder than the outside. Trunks could detect dampness and hints of mildew, along with the predominant smell of dust. 

He entered first, with his sister inches behind. He considered calling out a hello, then thought better of it. The scent of the interior made it evident that no one had been home in a while. 

The dilapidation on the inside was nowhere near as bad as he'd feared. In fact, everything was still intact – everything that could be seen and not covered by conventional, white sheets that blanketed what furniture remained.

The furnishings were sparse, compared to what adorned the Son household he knew. Though Bulla had always preferred that Pan visit her instead of vice versa, Trunks had often come to Goku's dwelling to be with Goten as a child. It had almost been a second home to him at the time, not because of the location itself, but because of the people who lived there. It was devoid of their warm energies now. 

Bulla attempted the light switch on the wall, to no avail. Trunks had stepped further inside, eyes grazing over the place that was – still should have been – bustling with life. At the bare minimum of occupants, at least Chi-Chi would be present.

“It's cold in here,” whispered Bulla, swinging the door shut with deliberation. “Doesn't look like anybody's home?” There was a question in her voice; she wanted to clear her last line of hope with her older brother. Trunks shook his head in reply. 

“Let's go check the bedrooms. Maybe there's something left for you to sleep on.” His own voice sounded encroaching in the silence, scattering it back to the nooks and crannies of the house. 

Bulla followed Trunks's movements, being careful not to touch anything, like she was infringing on the desertion that had settled in. The sun had just about collapsed behind the horizon, leaving the place quiet and black with the night aside from their presence. Even their breathing seemed to echo between the rafters. 

Glancing into the nearest guestroom, Trunks could see that it was bare. He followed suit with the other rooms and was greeted with the same results, with the exclusion of a single nightstand in what had been the master bedroom. He retrieved the small item of furniture and brought it back to the entry room with him, Bulla trailing him around. 

“What are you gonna do with that?”

“I'm going to start a fire with it,” said Trunks. The main room had a spacious hearth – the Son's hadn't started with electricity – and he was going to use what he had, too exhausted to go back outside and collect proper wood. 

He pulled the nightstand apart with ease, setting the pieces into a pile. Shifting a few of the albescent sheets, he took the smallest wooden items and dismantled them too, adding them to the heap of kindling. 

He began with a few tiny portions, lighting them with his ki. When the flames caught,   
he fed the blaze with larger parts until it was a decent size, enough to offer warmth to the two half-Saiyans. They'd sat down, eager to soak up the heat and rest their legs.

“If you sit any closer, you'll light your hair on fire,” Trunks warned his sister. She had her hands extended and was all but touching the flames. “And with the amount of product you probably put in it -”

“I'm too worn out for jokes right now,” Bulla interrupted. Trunks raised his palms in surrender, then leaned back to rest on them. In the firelight, he noticed his pants were spotted with dirt around the ankles. He pulled off his shoes, setting them aside, then sat cross-legged. Bulla copied him, extending her socked feet towards the hearth.

“Well, what do you know? They are green,” Trunks said. “I bet those are pretty flammable too.”

Bulla sighed and rested her head on her knees. Trunks took this as a serious hint to stop annoying her, so he spent the next few minutes staring into the fire. 

The blaze crackled, and it was the only noise that filled the air. Until there came a whisper so soft that Trunks wasn't sure if he'd imagined it. With Bulla's head tucked down, his only confirmation was the slight dampening of her ki that happened when she was sad. 

“What are we gonna do now...?” 

Trunks scooted closer to his sister, giving her a reassuring touch on the shoulders. “I'll figure something out. Besides, we should really just relax and try to get some sleep soon. You can't do that if you're worrying – I'm the adult, I can do more than enough worrying for both of us.”

He could tell she was still pouting and trying not to show it. 

“Do you want to hear a story?” He asked her. “It's something that has to do with this place.”

Trunks took her silence as an indication to continue, so he did.

“One time, I was over here playing with Goten, and there was this really bad storm that started up. It knocked out the electricity, and it was too dangerous for me to fly back, so Chi-Chi said it was okay if I stayed here for the night. So we lit a fire here, just like this – Chi-Chi made us hot chocolate, and we huddled here for hours. Me, Goten, and Gohan.”

Bulla was looking at her brother now, having lifted her head up in attention. Her expression was peaceful, and Trunks guessed his was as well, as the nostalgia gave him a warm feeling in his chest.

“The three of us fell asleep like that, after playing games and telling stories all night. When mom came to get me the next day after the storm had passed, she was so worried I might've tried to fly back alone, but she found us all crowded on the floor with blankets, snoring and dead to the world. I was so tired still that she had to carry me back home after that.” 

Bulla smiled, spending a moment to ruminate before sharing her own story. 

“One time when I was seven, me and Pan were in the same situation like that – a storm – but we were at Capsule Corp, and the backup generators kept the power from going out. We decided to play hide-and-go-seek, and when it was my turn, I was so determined to win that Pan got freaked out after she spent forever trying to find me. I was hiding my ki so she couldn't cheat, but I guess she thought I went outside or something maybe, because she went and got mom. I was up in the attic – it was a really good spot and I couldn't hear them calling me, so I stayed where I was. Then mom got scared, and she got daddy to try and find me. When I finally realized it had been a really long time, I turned my ki back on so they could know where I was. Daddy's face looked so serious that I cried because I thought I was in trouble.”

Trunks pursed his lips. “That's not as happy a memory as mine.”

“It wasn't happy at first, but then daddy started hugging me so I'd stop crying. You know he's not really cuddly, but then Pan joined in the hug and daddy didn't care. It was kind of a big bear-hug for all of us and he let us sleep with him on the couch later when we got tired. He usually ignores Pan but he was really nice to both of us that time.” 

Both the siblings smiled. 

“I wonder what they're doing right now. Everyone,” said Bulla.

“Considering we time travelled, they're probably going to be doing the same thing as when we left,” Trunks replied, resting his chin in his hand. “Depending on the hour, or even day, we return to, they'll only miss us if we don't go back to the exact moment we left.”

“But if we left then and we're here now, we've been gone all that time in between. To them, won't it be like we just disappeared out of thin air and never came back?”

“Hmm... I guess it depends whether we're running off the multiverse theory or not. When the Future Trunks came to the past, I'm not one hundred percent sure if anything he did affected the timeline he came from, so to be honest I have nothing to go on.”

“But – don't they say like, you know, somebody goes back in time and kills their grandfather and it prevents the person from ever being born? And if you're not born, you can't go back in time, so he doesn't die, so you're born anyway...”

“... And you wind up with a paradox. Yeah. That's the “dynamic timeline” theory, and it just creates paradoxes endlessly. But there's also the multiverse theory that I mentioned, and the “fixed timeline” theory. In multiverse, there's infinite parallel universes, so if you change anything it just creates a new timeline – although I'm not sure how you'd return to the old one. In a fixed timeline, anything you think you're changing was already part of the history you know. It's called the self-consistency principle. But since we travelled to the future, and not to the past, we don't have an immediate way of knowing for sure.”

“How do you know all that stuff? I think you lost me at the word “multiverse.””

“I did some reading when mom was making the time machine. There's a lot more to it than just that, though. I think – I hope – that it's multiverse theory. I mean, the me from the future didn't create a paradox, and then there was the God of Destruction's tournament with fighters from other dimensions...”

Bulla rubbed her temples. “This is too hard to think about when I'm tired. And too many big words make you start to sound like Gohan.”

“You're right. We should get to sleep now, I've talked enough by this point that's it's too much for my own ears. I guess we should sleep here by the fire, even though it'll go out at some point.”

Bulla yawned. “Too tired to care. Here is fine.” She rolled herself over onto her side, tucking her hands under her head as a makeshift pillow. She shifted her hips over the floorboards until she found a place relatively comfortable, then tucked her knees up into a foetal curl. Trunks made to copy her motions, but then decided to let his legs stretch out and rolled over onto his stomach, placing his hands one over the other underneath his cheek. The floorboards were uncomfortable against his ribcage, but he figured any manner of sleeping position would be. 

“G'night,” he mumbled to Bulla, and she grunted back a response. 

When Trunks shifted afterwards onto his side – to relieve the pins and needles in his hands – Bulla took the opportunity to move closer to him in seek of warmth. The fire, left unfed, had died to red embers, with only a weak heat remaining from them. 

He heard, and felt, her scuffle around the floor until she was behind him, her bangs tickling the back of his neck. 

Trunks let her adjust their proximity to her comfort, acting as if she hadn't woken him. However, when her shifting resulted in a few prods to his back from her elbows and knees, he couldn't help but mutter a small noise of irritation. In response, she jabbed him again, but then went still when she was satisfied with her new spot. 

While he was aware that she'd get more heat if he rolled over to face her, Trunks knew she'd only take the opportunity to hit him more – whether from her fitful sleep or a deliberate act – so he stayed right where he was. The downside was that he wouldn't be able to shift around later without jostling her, but he supposed he could manage as things were.

 

\---

 

Sometime in the night, not long before dawn, Trunks awoke as his innate sixth sense began to alert him. 

Someone else was entering the house. 

With his advanced Saiyan hearing, he was made aware of their careful footsteps. Their ki seemed restrained, but larger than a normal human's – almost as if the bearer was testing the waters. They hadn't entered through the front door, either, opting for the one Trunks knew exited off from a storage room at the back of the house. 

Trunks lifted his head, narrowing his senses in on the stranger's movements. The weight and distribution of each step, the degree of carefulness in them, anything that could reveal their intentions or identity. The movements were practised, as the old floorboards gave off little sound. It was more likely that the stranger knew people were inside and was on guard, rather than their caution stemming from not knowing the house's layout. The former option meant the person could sense ki – which could be a good thing, or a bad thing. Their choice of entry might also have meant that they didn't want their presence noticed right away.

Trunks sat up slowly, without stirring the air too much. The place was still black, but his eyes refocused and he could make out the angles of the walls and door frames. 

In a smooth motion, he moved to a crouch, then turned to check on Bulla. He'd thought she wouldn't be privy to the intruder's spirit, but when Trunks's gaze turned on his sister, he found she was wide awake. Her eyes had a luminescence about them in the dark, like a blue-eyed wolf.

Trunks put a finger to his lips and Bulla nodded. He raised his hand in a “stay” motion, and she blinked her approval. 

Raising himself to his full height, he let his ki simmer low so his movements around the building would be harder to pinpoint. If the intruder was someone they knew, Trunks doubted they'd be so reserved in this house – so until he could confirm who it was, the man thought it best to stay incognito. 

Trunks measured his steps, moving on the border between soundlessness and speed, much like a cat. He was grateful he'd taken his shoes off before going to sleep, as his socks didn't scuff the floor. Levitating would've made him even quieter, but doing so would call for him to raise his ki a little. 

He was against the wall that divided the main room from the hallway where the intruder was. The person wasn't stopping to investigate the rooms; in fact, they seemed to be moving right towards where Trunks thought he was hidden. 

They stopped right across from where he was, separated only by the wall. 

He was close enough to hear their strong heartbeat – but when a familiar voice pierced through the shadows, he knew the person could hear his as well. 

“What are you doing here, boy? And why the hell are you cowering?”

Trunks stepped around from his place behind the corner, eyes seeking certainty and finding it; his gaze locked on to his father's silhouette.

Trunks breathed out in relief, but this throat caught again when he saw Vegeta even in the darkness. 

“If you're looking for an answer, I doubt you...” Vegeta's sentence petered out like a drying creek and he froze. His eyes were dark – a less vibrant shade than Trunks's own – but the confusion that dawned in them was just as visible. 

Trunks heard Bulla round the corner, gravitating to her father's voice, but instead of words all she could managed was an astonished squeak. 

The siblings stared, and Vegeta stared right back. Trunks didn't know which part of his father surprised him most, or if it was simply his presence unannounced that was so startling. 

“Explain. Now,” said Vegeta, his eyes narrowing in a familiar, shrewd expression. 

Bulla and Trunks looked at each other. 

“We – party – fight – time machine,” said the younger sibling, and her brother grimaced. “You wouldn't mind telling us what year it is, would you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of dialogue in this one. I hope it seems natural? I don't know.


	4. Chapter 4

The three Saiyans had moved outdoors, in an effort to shed more light on the situation – literally. Dawn was still tucked behind the horizon, but being out under the sky provided more in the way of clarity than the shadowy house. 

In Trunks's opinion, aforesaid clarity was a bit shocking.

Vegeta wore the Capsule Corp jacket Bulma had given him; Trunks had seen it many times. It looked worn now, some of the colour faded, but overall it was not damaged. Vegeta himself seemed to have fared the same – there were streaks of grey in his hair, but about eighty percent of it still retained its coffee black hue. He stood as proud as ever, but his face held a hint of exhaustion Trunks hadn't seen before. 

“You have grey hair...” Bulla said. It was the first thing she mentioned, and the first words spoken, once the trio was outside. 

A muscle in Vegeta's face twitched as it sometimes did when he was annoyed. “I'm well aware. But nevermind that. What I want to know is how,” his gaze flicked to Bulla, “and why you are here like this.” 

Vegeta had relaxed his ki to its natural size, allowing Trunks to recognize it as he hadn't before. It was a much stronger presence than the lavender-haired man was used to, but if Vegeta's physical state was any indication of time having passed, newfound strength wouldn't be unusual. 

“Like Bulla said. We had an accident with the time machine -”

“That was entirely _Trunksie's_ fault -”

Trunks shot his sister a look before continuing. “And we were sent here. Though thank Kami we've found you, or you found us, because I was starting to lose hope for a minute there. We found a Capsule Corp office but had no luck, and there's nobody here,” Trunks indicated the area with a sweep of his hand. “And I'd say you haven't aged a day, but... How long has it been exactly?”

Vegeta stared at Trunks solemnly, as if contemplating the best way to give his answer. “How old are the two of you?” He countered with another question, then gestured at Bulla. “She... she looks like a little girl.”

"I'm not little! I'm thirteen and a half! Practically a grown-up, with all the crap we've been through lately.”

“I'm twenty-seven, dad. Last time I saw you, you were... Well, mom had turned sixty, and you're about the same age as her, right? How old are you now?” A pit of nervousness had settled in Trunks's gut; he didn't like the foreboding in his father's expression one bit. 

Vegeta stayed quiet, still with the same brooding countenance. His moods and thoughts could be unpredictable at best, and even though he'd cooled somewhat over the years, Trunks realized that the man may actually be suspicious of them somehow. 

Trunks fumbled in his pocket for the capsule he'd placed there yesterday. “It's really us, dad! Look,” he said, and tossed the capsule into the grass. It disengaged itself and the time machine popped into existence. “Bulla hit the panel and she broke it. Hell, I probably hit it myself a few times. We were having a new year's celebration at home, Bulla was hiding in the machine and when I went to get her out of it we accidentally turned it on. It was the last day of Age 793.”

Vegeta gave the machine a long, hard look before his gaze rested back on his children.

“Listen well, the two of you,” he began. “It's been over sixty years since that day. I don't know the exact year because I only just returned to Earth a few days ago.”

Trunks heard a thunk in the grass behind him and realized that Bulla had either fainted or sat down in shock. 

“Oh,” Trunks said. With no other remarks forthcoming in his surprise, he turned to look at his sister, who had plunked down cross-legged and was rubbing her forehead. 

“So then...” Trunks attempted, “I guess everyone... and mom?”

“She died a long time ago,” Vegeta answered flatly, his expression shut. Trunks stared at the grass.

“How are you still here, then?”

“I had told you nothing of the Saiyan lifespan yet, I see,” said Vegeta. 

“Well, I kinda guessed it wasn't the same, considering how much older mom looked than you. But I didn't think...” Trunks trailed off, his eyes traced an idle path to the time machine. 

“I guess I should put this away,” he said, “since you don't know how to fix it, obviously.” He replaced the machine back into its capsule, Vegeta's gaze following him all the while. 

“It is possible I can bring you to someone who may know how to repair it,” began Vegeta, seeming to come to an internal decision. “However, I will not abandon the two of you on your own here until then. With your meagre survival skills, you wouldn't last a week alone, especially with her in your care.”

Trunks was once again left to puzzle out whether his father's words were intended to be positive or negative reinforcement. More often than not, Vegeta's statements were both or neither, simply factual in his opinion, so as usual Trunks took in in stride. It also meant that he no longer had to shoulder all the responsibility himself, if Vegeta was there to help. 

“So you do know somebody who can fix it?” Trunks asked for confirmation hopefully.

“I said they _may_ be able to fix it. I make no promises. For now, you two will come with me. No children of mine, from another timeline or not, will disgrace themselves by staying in this sorry excuse for a shack. It was less than a hovel even before they abandoned it.” Trunks assumed the same logic applied to Gohan's house, which even in Trunks's time had only been occupied for a limited number of years before they'd moved closer to the city. 

In the silvery-pink haired man's intense relief at help, he briefly considered giving his father a hug. However, since the Briefs family – and Vegeta in particular – were never keen on the concept of embrace, Trunks decided to forgo the idea. Considering as well how many years Vegeta claimed had passed, Trunks didn't know how long it'd been since his father had proper contact with anyone, as the man was predisposed to isolating himself.

“Later, you're going to have to fill us in on everything that's happened all these years,” said Trunks. “I couldn't sense anybody I knew so far, excluding you as of a few minutes ago. But, uh, before we take off, could you tell me exactly where -”

“I wanna go home,” Bulla's voice interrupted. Both men drew their gazes to her.

She was holding her head in her hands, posture bowed in unhappiness. While she wasn't often prone to actual tears, Trunks knew her well enough to recognize she was in a state other girls cried in, and even if Bulla wasn't, she still needed equal comfort. 

Trunks turned and knelt next to her, feeling a pang of guilt for having temporarily forgotten her. He reminded himself that she was still a child, and hadn't experienced things so out-of-the-norm as Trunks himself had in the past. He reached out and began stroking her hair, knowing the motion soothed her; it was a chink in the armour of the entire Briefs family, who were not touchy-feely otherwise. 

Bulla leaned in to her brother's touch slightly, but made no other movement until Vegeta approached. 

“My ship is currently in the wilderness on the other side of West City. That's where I'll be taking you temporarily. I have food and I can probably find you new clothes.”

“I guess we were closer to you when we first got here, then,” Trunks thought out loud.

Copying his son's position, Vegeta knelt down in front of Bulla.

“Hey,” he prompted, speaking to her directly for the first time. When she tilted her face up to meet him, he frowned more. “You're exhausted. I'll carry you there.”

“I carried her to the city and all the way out here,” said Trunks. It always nettled him when his sister got extra pity from their father, as the older sibling rarely experienced such lenience. 

“With her ki level, she'd clearly incapable of proper flight. I know full well how little effort she used to put into training,” Vegeta said, and left it at that. 

Bulla linked her arms around her father's neck and he carried her on his back. Without another word, the trio ascended into the air, their flight taking them over the unknown city once again. Daybreak had just begun, bathing them in the waxing light of the sun as they made their way to a new destination.

 

\---

 

They set down beside the ship in a forest clearing where Vegeta had landed it. The ground was level, the grass flattened near the large vessel Trunks recognized as Capsule Corp design. Bulma often modified previous crafts and designed new ones for the group in case they were ever needed, so Trunks assumed it was the same case with this one. 

Vegeta had carried Bulla inside, past the main, circular room with the pilot's seat and down a hallway that led into the living area. Trunks had followed, letting his gaze explore the ship as they'd entered.

The interior of Vegeta's spacecraft was well outfitted, in comparison with what Trunks had seen from other models. Almost like its own miniature house on the inside, and seemed like it could support three people with ease within its space. However, the sole occupant who was permanent was Vegeta, as Trunks saw no evidence of anyone else living on the ship. 

Vegeta set Bulla down on the couch and moved off into another room, presumably to retrieve something. Trunks joined his sister on the couch while he waited. 

When Vegeta returned, he held sets of clothes in his arms.

“I don't have anything your size, so these will have to make do,” he said to Bulla. “Trunks, these ones should fit you. You can take turns changing in that room over there. I have a machine to wash your current clothes in the meantime.”

The siblings took the clothes they were offered, and Bulla got up to change first. 

The attire she returned in wasn't too long on her, but she was clearly too lean for it. It was a plain t-shirt and shorts, paired with a belt to hold up the latter. She'd cleaned most of her makeup off as well, though she seemed unhappy about it; or perhaps it was the outfit in general that displeased her, as it lacked the feminine qualities Bulla preferred to wear. 

After Trunks had taken his turn, he came back in something similar to what his sister had been given, though he fit his much better and his shirt bore a Capsule Corp logo on the left sleeve. 

Next, Vegeta offered the siblings food, which they gratefully accepted. While some of it was non-perishables that would store well aboard a ship, the rest was fresh fruit and vegetables, which Trunks assumed his father had taken the opportunity to acquire while back here on Earth, if Vegeta had indeed been gone as he'd said. Trunks was curious about why his father had returned, but decided to save questions for later. 

Once they'd finished eating, Vegeta procured coffee for the three of them. The man had never been the host type, but he seemed at ease with his current task, moving about in silence. 

The coffee itself was black, but the siblings were appreciative all the same. Trunks raised a brow at his sister when he watched her all but chug down the liquid.

“You know how mom feels about you drinking coffee at your age,” he said. “You'll stunt your growth.” He was only halfway serious in his scolding, but his sister seemed to take it in earnest. 

“You're not allowed to point fingers, Mr. Five-Foot-Seven.” Trunks scowled at her comment, about to protest that he was taller than that, but she continued before he could retort. “And not only am I gonna be short anyway, thanks to genetics, but it's not like mom is here to complain about my caffeine intake.”

Bulla's cocky demeanour suddenly vanished and she looked at Vegeta. “Oh! I – I'm so sorry, I forgot...”

“She'd been gone a long time,” Vegeta said. The response was so absentminded that it left the siblings questioning whether it was an acceptance of Bulla's apology or not. 

Trunks wondered if you could ever get used to the absence of a loved one, but he didn't press the issue. He'd seen how despondent his mother had become during the time Dr. Briefs had passed away, and he'd noticed the difference in Chi-Chi before and after Goku had returned from the dead. 

“So,” Trunks changed the subject, eager to banish the sullen mood, “can you tell us who is still around? If you're alive, Goku must be too. Unless he got himself killed again...”

Vegeta moved to sit across from Bulla and Trunks, in preparation for a conversation that was going to be full of questions. 

“I have no idea if he's alive or dead,” Vegeta answered, “though it wouldn't surprise me if the gods granted him immortality for his deeds by now. He left the planet a few years after his woman died, in seek of further training. As you may have surmised, I haven't stayed on Earth all these years either. I have done a measure of searching for Kakarot during my time in space, and was planning on continuing to do so in earnest after my visit here – though I've accepted that I may well be the last pure Saiyan alive. Kakarot made no attempt to contact even his sons.”

Trunks pursed his lips in thought. 

“I assume the Namekian is still alive as well, though I haven't seen him in a long time. Along with the android woman, he'll probably outlive all of us, and took his cue to distance himself when the humans began passing on. However, I believe he still keeps contact with Gohan,” said Vegeta. 

“Gohan's alive, then,” said Trunks. 

“To my knowledge, yes. I don't know about Pan, though, she'd moved away with her family last I heard tell while Gohan remained here.”

“And what about Goten?”

“I don't know. He was here in previous years, though I haven't seen him recently. The person I'll be taking you to who can look at your machine will have more information. They will be of much more help to you than I.”

“But you have helped us, daddy,” said Bulla, and Vegeta offered her a faint smile in reply.

“Can you tell us who, exactly, is this person that can maybe fix the machine?” Trunks asked.

“You'll see when I take you there,” Vegeta's customary smirk slipped out before he returned to his neutral, not-quite-angry expression. 

Trunks raised an eyebrow, hoping for further information but receiving none. He'd become rather suspicious at his father's avoidance of answering the question.

“Is it someone I know?” Trunks prodded. 

“No.”

“Are they related to me somehow? It's not gonna be my estranged twenty-third grandson four times removed or something like that, right?”

Vegeta smiled again. “No. As I said, you'll see.”

Giving up pestering his father for answers, Trunks sipped his coffee, which had reached a bearable temperature. “If you won't tell us that, tell us more about what you've been doing all this time. When did you leave Earth and why did you come back?”

“Kakarot's wife and Bulma... Their deaths were not far apart. I stayed longer than he did here on Earth, though I eventually left for the same reason. I had hoped to find him early on, but had that happened I would not have come back. Since that is not the case, I've been returning periodically every number of years, for ship repairs or for a familiar place to rest from my journeys in space. But time goes on, and there are few people left on this planet who know me. The two of you are very lucky – I had planned this to be my last time here.”

It struck Trunks that Vegeta must be well over one hundred years old. He, of course, didn't look like a man who had reached even half that age, but he'd lived those years all the same. Most of the people who'd come to accept him had passed away. Trunks glanced at his sister; she looked morose. He assumed she'd come to a similar realization at some point and felt sorry for her father. 

“As I've said, there are a few of us left here with our long lives,” Vegeta continued. “I returned planning on taking with me those willing to leave planet Earth behind for good. Though humanity thrives, there isn't much left here for the people who once protected it.”

“It sounds lonely,” muttered Bulla. Vegeta looked at her, but didn't answer. 

Trunks, until that moment, had never considered that such a future could exist. In some part of his mind, he thought things would be as they always were – a moment suspended in infinity. If anything happened, they could reverse it with the Dragon Balls. After everything they'd all been through, something so obvious and mundane as the passage of time had been overlooked as their last opponent. 

Trunks nursed his drink in his hands. The warmth seeping through the cup offered him little comfort for the new sullenness he felt. 

“And where are we? Bulla and I,” Trunks asked quietly. “Did we let you go back into space alone?”

The question had been weighing on Trunks's mind for a while, but he'd been too nervous of the answer to set it forth. He'd taken note of his father's avoidance of mentioning them so far and had gotten concerned. 

“I can't tell you.”

Trunks looked at his father and blinked. “Why?”

“I don't know enough about time travel to know whether it's safe to tell you of your future. It may affect your actions when you return to the past, so for now, we shall wait and see. Perhaps what I've already said has been too much.”

Trunks made an irritated sound in his throat. “So you won't even tell us if we're alive or not?”

“You're alive,” Vegeta said, “but that's all I will tell you.” He then stood up and discarded of his coffee, which he'd been sipping during their conversation and had finished. 

“Oh goody. We're alive in sixty years, because that's really what I was concerned about,” said Bulla. “I want to know the interesting details! Like, who do I marry? How many kids do I have? How many cats does Trunks wind up with?”

Vegeta raised an eyebrow, not in on Bulla's joke. “No. No details yet.”

 _“Pleeeease,_ daddy?” Bulla begged. She'd gotten up from her seat and was hanging off her father's shoulders with all her weight. It was Bulla's first tactic whenever she wanted anything from her father. It worked in most cases, and if that didn't work and Bulla was desperate, she'd progress to tears. When she was younger, she'd been too short to do anything but dangle off the bottom of his shirt or the leg of his pants until she'd get his attention. Having begun a recent growth spurt, she wasn't far off being his eye level, but that didn't stop her from behaving the same way she had since her toddler years. 

“No, princess.”

“Aw,” Bulla pouted. When she accepted that he wouldn't relent, she gave up and slid to the floor while still clinging to his wrist. “Can I at least have more coffee?”

“If you get up off the floor and let go of my sleeve, yes,” Vegeta answered. He wasn't smiling, but his face had softened in a familiar way. 

Trunks rolled his eyes. “I thought a future you would've learned to enable her less.”

“You're a stick in the mud,” Bulla said to her brother as she moved to get more coffee. “You don't enable me to do anything but homework and you lecture me about boys all the time.”

“If nobody lectured you, you'd be doing none of the former and attempting all of the latter. At thirteen.”

Bulla huffed. “He's jealous,” she said, turning to speak to her father but gesturing at Trunks. “Despite the fact that Mr. Charmy-Pants here is stupidly rich and works out like, every day, his girlfriends keep leaving him. Go figure.”

“Not necessary, Bulla,” said an irate Trunks.

“I don't recall you two fighting quite this much,” mused Vegeta. 

“Do you recall goading us into it because it was “training” and “good sport?” Because I certainly do. I think I still have the scar from when she drop-kicked me at five years old.”

Vegeta shook his head, trying not to smile as brother and sister continued harping one another, trying to rope their father into taking a side. The gloomy air from earlier had been forgotten for the moment. 

They spent the remaining time investigating the ship while the siblings' clothes washed, though Bulla had to be chastised twice not to touch anything by her father. She'd already damaged one important piece of mechanical equipment, she wouldn't get the chance to do it again. 

When their clothes were finished, they changed back into the attire they'd arrived in, though there was no fixing Bulla's complaints about her makeup. 

Vegeta then offered to take them to the person he'd promised, to which the siblings agreed. They'd had rest, food, and clean clothes, so they were prepared as they'd ever be to seek further help. 

It would be another long flight before they neared the place Vegeta was leading them to. He carried Bulla the whole way and Trunks followed behind. 

Contrary to what Trunks had first thought, they didn't go into the city. They flew past it, going over the suburbs and then the fringes. The area they landed was mostly countryside, dotted with a few houses that had large acres of land to go with them. It was almost a small town in itself that jutted off from the main of West City. 

They'd walked in on foot once close enough, so as not to alarm any of the local citizenry, Vegeta still heading their party. They moved along the quiet main route for some time; though it was sunny the day wasn't hot. The only sounds were humdrum, domestic noises from the neighbourhood.

Whoever this person was, it was evident they liked their privacy. The paved road gave way to a dirt one on the side that travelled uphill on a gentle slope. The drive was shaded with trees, and on closer inspection, Trunks noticed they'd been planted and tended along the frame of the road on purpose. It was the driveway of someone's property. 

Trunks concluded his suspicions that the person was wealthy when the house came into view. It wasn't quite mansion sized, but it looked expensive, with minimal but tasteful decorations. Near the top, the driveway was made up of cobblestones, shaped in a semicircle with a small plot for a tree and flowers in the middle. 

By the time they were within several feet of the doorway, the handle of it was moving. Trunks could sense someone's ki on the other side. It felt strange to him – it wasn't quite familiar, but there was something about it that pulled at his subconscious. 

“You're back,” drifted a voice as the door opened. “I already told you -” The person stepped out and froze in place. Nobody spoke for several long moments. 

"I thought you said it wasn't someone I knew," said Trunks, his face paling a little as he looked the newcomer up and down.

“I lied,” said Vegeta. He smirked.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand I'm back from vacation! Which was actually a couple vacations one after another without technology... Anyway, I figured I should update this story first as it's been a whole month since the last chapter.

“You've gotta be kidding me,” said Trunks. 

He was staring at a face he knew like the back of his hand. It was a proper metaphor for him to use, because the person had features he saw almost as often as that part of his anatomy. 

They were _his_ features. 

Granted, something about the other man seemed older, more mature, but Trunks couldn't tell if it was just more life experience that would create such a sense. The other man's expression was part bewilderment and part scrutiny, and Trunks assumed his face was all of the former, since he knew he was looking at his future self – his other self probably had no idea what he was looking at. 

_“I can't tell you anything,_ he says,” muttered the younger Trunks to himself. _“Giving you information might mess up the timeline,_ he says. But apparently, taking me to see myself is totally harmless.”

“Dad, when I said 'it'll take more than that to convince me,' it wasn't a challenge,” said the older Trunks, stepping out and looking around at the trio. “Also, I have no idea how I'm supposed to interpret this as a response. Did you do something with the Dragon Balls...?”

Bulla made a loud and frustrated noise. “Why didn't you tell me there was gonna be two of Trunks? A little warning would've been nice!”

Seemingly just noticing her presence, the older Trunks turned to stare at his sister with an indecipherable expression. It was somewhere between confusion, surprise, and wounded, oddly enough – or perhaps it was something else. The younger counterpart spoke up to try and offer some clarity to the situation.

“What she means is 'hi, we're from the past,''' he said. “Would you believe us if I said we had an accident with a time machine?”

“Is there really another explanation for this?” Asked the older Trunks. The man's gaze flicked to his father's for a moment before going back to meet his twin's, then he moved to stand in front of his younger self. 

Trunks been told numerous times – by admirers, mostly – that his eyes were striking. They were the same colour as his mother's and sister's, but he'd taken after his father's intense features and magnified the effect. After being face to face with himself, and not a reflection in a mirror, he understood what they meant. 

There weren't many differences between the two of them. Besides their clothing, the older man had longer hair, tied in a ponytail at the base of his neck. Besides the marginal variation in maturity of facial features, he also had a bit of a larger build and, much to the younger one's chagrin, he noticed his older self was also somehow taller. 

“This is weird,” they said at the same time, and then looked surprised at the same time.

“I'm so confused!” Bulla complained again. “Daddy, you said you couldn't tell us anything because it would mess up time or something. But I'm pretty sure having two of the same person is a big mess up. Like, the universe exploding as a result or something.”

“Trunks has met himself before, though it's unlikely he remembers,” said Vegeta. “I already know nothing extreme becomes of it.”

“I don't think you're the best judge of what's too extreme, dad,” sighed the older Trunks. Then he gestured for everyone to follow him inside the house. “We can talk indoors,” he said, “and you can tell me exactly what happened and what's going on.” 

Once they were inside, the younger Trunks found the house much to his liking – not that he'd expected otherwise. It was decorated tastefully, but wasn't garish, and although it looked tidy he detected the scent of an animal's presence, too discreet for a human nose to notice. 

The older Trunks directed everyone to the nearby lounge room. “Sit or stand wherever you'd like,” he said. “Do any of you need a drink or food? I expect we have a long conversation ahead of us.”

The trio of newcomers politely declined, and everyone in the room but Vegeta took a seat. The older Trunks sat across from his younger counterpart and his sister, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment before speaking. 

“Okay... You tell me your side of what's going on first. You've obviously found dad at some point, so I'm assuming he tried to explain things in context a little, if what you say is true... but I think it'll be easier if we go over everything again separately. I think I'm more confused than anybody right now.”

The younger Trunks looked at his sister, then decided he should do the talking. Once again, he repeated his story, but this time to his older self, Bulla piping in where she felt she needed to. Vegeta, who was leaning himself up in a corner as he was wont to, also lent his voice in explaining the more recent events, and when the three of them had finished, the older Trunks placed his hand on his chin thoughtfully. 

“I see,” he said, his face set in a look of concentration. When he stayed silent, the younger Trunks spoke up, seeking an answer to something he'd been curious about.

“I'm curious to know, why didn't you sense us? We were close enough by that you should have,” he asked.

“Well, I wasn't exactly looking. I'm assuming dad only found you because he was trying to find me and sensed you first nearby. I mean, even if I had been looking, it might be hard to find you in the city near the beginning, I'd probably fail to recognize my own ki – yours, that is, and -” the older Trunks hesitated. “Bulla's energy isn't very large,” he finished carefully. 

“Speaking of me, I also have a question,” said Bulla. “If you're here, that means we fix the machine and get back to our own time safely, right?” She looked around at her companions, hoping for confirmation.

The older Trunks frowned. “I don't think so. I never used mom's time machine, so by doing so you probably altered things a little.”

“Peachy,” the younger Trunks muttered. “Multiverse theory it is.”

“But,” Bulla began, “shouldn't there still be a time machine in this year too, even if you never used it? All we have to do is find it and use that one to get home!”

The older Trunks paused in thought for a moment. “I suppose it's possible. But it's been years since I've laid eyes on it. If it wasn't dismantled or something, it's probably still with mom's old projects that I kept. However, there's no guarantee what use we'll be able to make of it if it's been gathering dust for half a century.”

“Why is everything becoming so unnecessarily difficult?” Bulla sniffled, running her hands through her hair. “It was a simple accident and at this rate we'll find El Dorado before we find a way home!”

“I'll do everything I can to help you guys. I promise,” said the older Trunks.

“It's creepy when you're so blatantly nice,” said Bulla before stuffing her face into a pillow. The two versions of Trunks looked at each other and shrugged. 

The older Trunks shifted in his seat a little. “I suppose I'll be better at explaining what's happened all these years than dad will. What has he told you already?”

“He told us it's been sixty years, and did his best to explain where everyone is... or went,” said the younger Trunks.

“That's... a little off. Well, more than a little. I guess dad's really out of the loop – it's Age 868 right now. It's been seventy-five years, not sixty.”

Bulla's muffled scream could be heard from her face mashed into the pillow. Whatever forceful words from her that came after were too muted to be understood. The three men in the room winced, but the older Trunks continued speaking afterwards. 

“I'll start with myself first, I guess. I worked as Capsule Corp's CEO for a long time. When I passed on that role, I chose to design new machines and technology for the company – although I was never as good as mom. Nowadays, I'm retired. I restore old automobiles as a hobby, among other things.”

The younger Trunks felt a smile quirk the side of his mouth. He, of course, shared the same interests as his counterpart, but still somehow found the idea entertaining. 

He was startled out of his reverie when something soft started brushing up against his leg. Looking down, he was unsurprised to find a tabby cat meeting his eyes. It meowed at him and hopped up onto the couch beside him. 

“Hey there,” the younger Trunks said to the feline, stroking it softly. “Looks like I still like cats,” he joked, and the older Trunks chuckled. 

“I have four of them.”

“Four?” The younger counterpart asked, just as the point was emphasized with the presence of two additional cats strolling into the room. They gravitated towards the younger Trunks, curious to investigate their master's double. 

The cats were clambering on him, one by one, and he wasn't sure whether to ignore them or push them off. He opted to pet the one in his lap instead, and it began purring in content. While the Sons were notorious for their affinity with animals, the Briefs could claim a similar competency, but with only cats – at least, Trunks himself could. 

A noise interrupted the moment in the form of a restrained wheezing from Bulla. She was now clutching the pillow to her stomach, trying to breathe through her laughter. “Oh Kami,” she chortled, “this is too good. I can't even -” Her amusement prevented her from further words as she began giggling without restraint, rolling onto the floor. 

“It's not that funny,” pouted the younger Trunks, deflated at being humiliated by his sister. He was glad that the fourth cat had yet to make an appearance and embarrass him further, but he supposed it wouldn't have made a difference at that point. 

The older Trunks was smiling, but Vegeta still didn't seem to find the humour in the situation and only quirked a brow at his daughter's antics. 

“The tabby is Stetson, the orange one is Tapion, the one not here is Trooper, and the fluffy one is... Mr. Chubby,” explained the older Trunks, grinning.

Bulla snorted from her place on the floor. “That's a dumb name for a cat. Though he is kinda chubby.”

“My grandson named him,” he replied. At that, Bulla sat straight up and squinted at the older version of her brother. After a moment of her scrutinizing glare, she then moved to sit herself next to the man, analyzing him with her piercing blue eyes. He raised an eyebrow at her, silently questioning why he was under such surveillance. 

“I'm checking to see how different you are from _my_ Trunks,” Bulla explained before poking the chest of the man before her. She continued her prodding, occasionally muttering a “hmm” as she studied her brother. The younger Trunks thought his other self looked guarded for some reason, but the older man sat still under Bulla's investigation as she examined his face. 

Bulla then reached around and tugged on the older Trunks's ponytail. 

“Um, ouch?” He said in confusion. “I'm not sure what you're getting out of this other than seeing me uncomfortable.”

“Well, you're real, that's for sure,” said Bulla, rocking back onto her heels. “Trunks hates it when I pull his hair. That's probably why he wears it short.”

“Well _obviously_ I know he hates it,” said the older Trunks, disgruntled. The younger one followed up with a petulant “I don't do everything because of you, Bulla.”

“I've had my hair pulled by enough children throughout my life. Quit it,” warned the older Trunks when Bulla gave another soft yank.

“Can I braid it?” She blurted, still grabbing his hair but ceasing her tugging. “My Trunks had his hair long for a little while. I got really good at braiding it when he wasn't paying attention, but then he went and cut it. If you let me I promise I won't pull on it again.”

“Do you remember what I said before about derailing conversations?” Voiced the younger Trunks as a disappointed Bulla slunk back to her original seat beside him. “To be honest, I'm still kind of confused about that whole grandson thing you mentioned a few minutes ago. You've told us some minimal information about yourself, but I want more than that. I also want to confirm exactly what's happened to everyone else.”

“I can tell you some things,” the other Trunks said, “but not everything. I don't want to affect the outcome of your timeline – giving you too much detail might contribute to altering your future in a bad way. For example... I'm sorry, but I don't think it's a good idea to tell you about your children or your wife. It might prevent your kids from being born at all.”

“That's fair, I guess,” agreed Trunks, who contented himself with the knowledge that he would indeed have a family of his own someday. He was curious as to when he'd be meeting his future wife and who she was, but had enough restraint not to ask. 

“What I can clarify for you is where all us fighters are now. As you may have guessed, Yamcha, Tien, and Krillin... passed away. So did mom and Chi-Chi. After Chi-Chi died, Goku took off into space. Dad did the same thing on and off once mom was gone, trying to find Goku.” The older Trunks looked at his father, then back to his sister and younger self before continuing. “I don't think dad is going to be coming back here again, as he might've told you. Anyway. Goten... He stayed here with me for a long time before he also left to find his dad a few years ago. He hasn't come back.” He dropped his gaze to the ground.

The younger Trunks ignored the pang in his chest and tried to rekindle his other self to speak. “And what about Gohan? Dad said he was still around.”

“He is,” said the older Trunks. “He, Piccolo, Buu, and Eighteen stay up on the lookout with Dende and Popo. There's not really a lot of places down here for people who don't age. Pan is still around though, I think, but she moved away to be with her own family when Videl passed on. Gohan was inconsolable for a long time and didn't speak to anyone much, though he eventually came back onto the radar when he made his way to the lookout. That's where we'll all wind up eventually, I guess, unless some of them decide to leave with dad. To my knowledge, I'm the only one he's asked yet.”

“Correct,” confirmed Vegeta. 

“This is confusing,” muttered Bulla to herself. “At least it's only me and Trunks who have to deal with two versions of ourselves at once. To make it less confusing...” Bulla looked at the older Trunks. “What do I call you to differentiate from my real brother? Can I call you Future Trunks?”

“Uh, no. Technically, that's the guy from the android timeline...”

“But you never met him! Nobody here did!”

“Dad did. So you can't. Besides, it's too long.”

“Then what _do_ I call you?”

“My regular name.”

“I can't do that! That's what I call my Trunks! It'll be too confusing.”

“Does it really matter? I know everything he does plus more. If you really want a specific one of us, you could just say so when the situation calls for it.”

“You're not the same. You're like, a bajillion years older than he is, even though you don't look a whole lot different.”

“I'm not 'a bajillion' years older. I'm only a hundred and two.”

“Only?!” Bulla squeaked out, sounding strangled in her surprise. “You're a freaking senior citizen!”

“Bulla, relax,” said the younger Trunks – who was partially intrigued and partially terrified that he would look to be a man in his thirties when a century old. “Besides, if he's that age, that means you'll look young at that age too. Nobody will have to hear you complain about your looks for an extra hundred years.”

“Well, I don't exactly see myself around here to confirm that,” she said, running a hand through her hair. “Speaking of which, if you're here, and daddy's here, and everyone else is at the lookout besides Goku and Goten... Where am I, then? You haven't mentioned me at all.”

Silence.

“... You aren't gonna tell me or you just don't know?” Bulla questioned, intent on having an answer. “Because no matter how old I am in this time, you can bet I'd still be wondering what the hell is going on. So where am I?”

The younger Trunks was troubled by his older self's and his father's reaction – or lack thereof. The two of them were still, giving each other a single glance and then the older Trunks looked at the ground and Vegeta at the wall. Neither of them seemed to be making the first move to explain their response. 

“You said we were alive,” whispered the younger Trunks, fearing that he knew the answer, but Vegeta caught the soft words. 

“I said _you_ were alive,” he clarified in a quiet voice. “And I was not about to explain the truth to the two of you unless necessary.”

“What do you mean, the truth...?” Queried Bulla. “Why... What happened? Am I not... still alive?” Her sentence had grown softer with each word until her voice was barely audible. 

The younger Trunks had added things up in his head. He'd noticed that his other self and his father's reactions to Bulla had been off so far, though not to an intense degree – at least until she'd asked them straight out about herself. 

“Answer her question,” he said to them. He needed to know. “I'd say this has now become necessary.” 

“This... isn't an easy thing so say, nor to hear, and I'm sorry I have to tell you this,” came the voice of the older twin half-Saiyan. He let out a level breath before letting his remaining words trickle out. 

“We didn't know what was happening until it was too late. Bulla, she... contracted sepsis. We don't really know why. Her Saiyan blood made us think nothing like that would ever happen, and because of her young age... By the time we knew her life was in danger... there wasn't anything we – if we'd known...”

He trailed off and everyone was quiet.

The younger Trunks recalled when Bulla had been a newborn, holding her in his arms for the first time. He'd been smiling, Bulma had been smiling, even Vegeta had smiled. Trunks had known right then that it was his job to protect his little bundle of a sister. No matter how capable she was, no matter how much he became frustrated with her. 

“Do you have a pen and paper?” He asked suddenly.

The older Trunks blinked, taking a long moment to answer. “Of course.”

“Write it down. The date. The year. Everything you can remember about when she started getting symptoms.”

The other man made no move.

“I don't care about this timeline bullshit,” said the younger Trunks in a low voice. His words were directed to either his future self or his future father. “This is my sister's life. You just said that there was something that could've been done if you'd have known. If you tell me when this is going to happen, I can get her to a hospital days beforehand and save her. So tell me what I need to know, or if you really think not changing events is somehow more important than Bulla, I'll get it out of you another way.”

The older Trunks seemed stunned – like he'd never considered their situation could be an opportunity used for change – but from his peripheral vision the younger counterpart could see Vegeta already moving to retrieve what had been requested. The dark haired man searched around for a minute or two before returning with a pencil and paper. He made a few quick jotting motions before approaching his son from the past and offering him the note. 

The younger Trunks, realizing that he'd moved to hold his sister at some point, had to release her to take the billet. Vegeta let it out of his grip slowly, and Trunks met his father's eyes. 

“Do not let us fail her again,” said Vegeta. 

Trunks nodded once. Then he scanned his father's articulate printing before folding the slip, forming a small square and then depositing it in the same pocket with the time machine capsule. When his fingertips brushed the pill-shaped object, he was reminded why he'd come to meet his future self in the first place. 

“I promise things will be different,” he said as he felt his sister's forehead leaning against his shoulder once more. “But in order to do that... The whole reason we came here originally is because dad said you might be able to fix the machine. I was completely useless, so I can't exactly say I believe in your skills one hundred percent. But if you've gained as much experience as you say, it's worth a shot.”

“I understand where your doubts are coming from,” said the older Trunks. “I may not be on mom's level of genius, but I do have an advantage. Like Bulla said, if I can find the machine stored away here – even if it doesn't completely run – I can exchange or remake the damaged parts to how they should be. I'll find a way.”

“Thank you,” the younger Trunks said. “If there's any way I can help you fix it, I'll try my best.”

“First things first. I have to go dig around the archive to find the bloody thing, if it's even there. Getting in to search won't be a problem, but it could still take me anywhere from a few hours to a few days, depending on how much trouble the company gives me for nosing around in that department. It'll be a waiting game in the meantime.”

“I won't be leaving Earth until you've repaired your machine,” Vegeta spoke up, “but I have no use in helping you to reacquire our copy nor to fix it. I will take my visit to the lookout during this time, but if either of you two wish, you can accompany me while you wait.”

“I don't think it's a good idea to have two of me running around down here, so my best option is probably to go with you,” said the younger Trunks. “Just sitting around will make me go stir crazy. And... I am a bit curious to see the people on the lookout.”

“Where do you want to go, Bulla?” Vegeta asked. 

“I want to go home,” she murmured into her brother's tee shirt. It was only loud enough for the younger counterpart to hear, so he shook his head to his other self, unsure of what to do. 

“If she doesn't mind, she can stay with me,” offered the older Trunks shyly. “It may be less stressful for her if she doesn't have to deal with more not-quite-familiar faces for a little while.”

When Bulla didn't protest, the younger Trunks nodded. “It's settled then. Dad and I will go to the lookout while you two find the other machine.” 

“Right,” said the older Trunks. “Let's get started.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over the course of DBZ, whether from the artistic changes or otherwise, Goku and Vegeta both seem to get taller. It's especially noticeable in Super when comparing the difference between Vegeta and Bulma, who were around the same height when he first started staying on Earth. My theory is that a bit of extra growing in their thirties is part of the Saiyan ageing cycle. Just thought I'd stick this random note here.


	6. Chapter 6

The older Trunks had given his younger self a cellphone to use, as the latter had admitted to leaving his at home in the past. Actually, it looked more like some sort of small earpiece than a phone, but the younger Trunks had accepted it and tucked it into his clothes. He'd been assured that if anything happened, he could be contacted through the device. 

Trunks felt the weight of it, along with the time machine's capsule, in his pocket as he soared through the air with his father – or rather, who his father would be in seventy-five years. Despite the fact that Trunks grew up with the man, he was still as hard to read as ever, so they had flown in silence as Trunks didn't want to irritate Vegeta with what the prince often dubbed 'meaningless prattle.'

Since there was little to no wind besides what their speed generated, the silence felt profound to Trunks. 

“I guess you've probably gotten a lot stronger in seventy-five years,” he said at length, having gotten tired of hearing nothing but the breeze in his ears. 

“Hn,” Vegeta grunted in confirmation. 

“I assume you didn't just get stronger, but uncovered new forms as well. Which brings me to ask, just out of curiosity... Did you ever learn to use Super Saiyan Three?" 

Trunks himself had, during his teen years, discovered how to achieve the form without needing to become Gotenks. Granted, he still had a much better hang of it with his friend's help when they fused, as Super Saiyan Three's frightening power was notoriously difficult to sustain. 

While waiting for his father's answer, Trunks wondered briefly what would happen if he fused with his older self. They did both know the technique...

“Hmph. I have no use for the transformation when I have long since passed into even greater heights of power,” Vegeta responded. 

Trunks couldn't help the small smile that appeared on his features. “So that's a no, then. I guess it's not a big deal for you to skip it, but I'm surprised you didn't ever try for it just because Goku knows how.”

“I am more than Kakarot's equal without it.”

“Do I ever surpass Super Saiyan Three?” Trunks wondered aloud. “Or, does anyone besides you and Goku? How much more is there?”

“If I told you the answer, that would take the fun out of discovering it for yourself, no?”

“Don't know if I've ever heard you use the word 'fun' before now, but alright,” Trunks chuckled. 

“I do hope for your sake that you know whom you're mocking...”

“'Course I do, dad.”

“Tsk. So you really _have_ always been incorrigible.”

“I learned from the best, you know.”

“Hn.”

 

\---

 

Trunks expected that those on the lookout would sense he and his father's presence before they arrived, and his prediction was correct. When they were within visible distance, Trunks noted figures awaiting them near the edge of the platform, figures that became familiar faces as he and his father touched down on the smooth tile.

Gohan and Dende were the closest and first to approach, with Piccolo and Popo behind them. Eighteen headed up the rear, and much to Trunks' surprise, Buu was there and so was Seventeen – a man he barely knew.

While Trunks could see a slight difference in Gohan and Dende's appearances, Piccolo and Eighteen hadn't aged at all. The latter of the two had her hair styled differently, but her features remained identical to how Trunks had known her. The half-blood wasn't familiar enough with Seventeen to gauge if there was a difference from how the man looked in his own time. Popo and Buu, of course, was the same as always. 

“Vegeta, you're back! Hey Trunks,” acknowledged Gohan. 

In Trunks' mind, Gohan had always been a bigger, stronger, adult figure, regardless of their respective ages. Looking at him now, Trunks found the other half Saiyan to be diminished. Gohan didn't appear to have aged much outwardly, but his eyes revealed the truth. 

“Welcome. Long time, no see,” said Dende, although he seemed to be addressing the second part to Vegeta alone. Trunks assumed that the guardian of Earth was already aware of the time travel debacle, and he was expecting to be interrogated about it until Gohan spoke. 

“Wow. You really look younger with your hair cut like that,” said the eldest half-blood to Trunks in an oblivious manner. Vegeta made an amused snort and Piccolo breathed an exasperated sigh. 

“What? Is there something funny?” Asked Gohan, his eyes flicking around his companions. 

“Ah – about that, Gohan...” Trunks began with a wary tone. “I look younger because I'm not Trunks.”

Gohan had a moment to look flabbergasted before the explanation continued. 

“I mean, I _am_ Trunks, but not the one you know... Long story short, a bout of patronizing my sister at a party turned into us getting sent to the future in my mom's time machine – which got busted, by the way, because Bulla is about as graceful as a typhoon when she's mad – and we came here from the past about seventy-five years ago. New year's celebration, last day of Age 793. Ring any bells?”

There was dead silence on the lookout for a long few seconds, until Gohan made a choking noise that may have been a strangled “what?” and Eighteen laughed under her breath. 

“Uh, Vegeta?” Gohan asked for verification. 

“What the boy says is true,” Vegeta confirmed. “I found the two of them in the house you once shared with your family. I mistook his ki to be that of Trunks from our time.”

“Wait, so there's two of you? Where's the other Trunks? And Bulla's with you? And she's...” Gohan blurted out in a stream of questions. 

“She's fine, completely healthy,” Trunks replied, then took a more sombre tone. “I was told about the sepsis – dad gave me the date and I'm going to change things. But I can't do anything unless we can actually get home...”

“Hold on – before we go any further, I think it might do us good to sit down and talk about the situation,” Piccolo interrupted in his usual gruff way.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” Seventeen's unfamiliar voice piped up, “since I have no idea what the hell is going on right now and I'm not sure if I need to care.” 

Eighteen smacked her twin brother on the head before the group moved to the centre of the platform for seats, led by Dende and Popo. 

Once everyone had been made comfortable in the interior of the lookout's building, Trunks went over his story for the third time since he'd gotten to the future. After he'd done so, clarifying a few details so that no one was left confused, the discussion shifted as to how Trunks was intending to get home.

“So, you said your time machine was broken?” Gohan asked.

Trunks nodded. “Yeah. The older me agreed to attempt fixing it, but first he's going to try and find the one in this time to see what we can make of it, if it still exists.”

“That sounds like the best course of action, all circumstances considered... I wish there was something I could do to help, but fixing mechanical devices isn't really my forte – and since it's a time machine we're dealing with, I'm sure you, uh, the older you, knows as much about quantum physics as I do. I'd just get in the way.”

Trunks shifted at the mention of quantum physics, now worried that having the time machine fixed was going to be much more difficult than he'd thought. Of course, he'd known it wouldn't be as simple as changing a light-bulb, but his prospects of having everything dealt with sans issues were diminishing with every conversation he had.

“I may be the Earth's guardian, but unfortunately there's nothing I can do either,” said Dende with his gaze lowered. “The time distortion you created likely isn't big enough to catch the notice of anyone higher up than myself, so we're on our own to resolve it.”

“Time distortion?” Trunks questioned. 

“Yes. Not only is there presumably a duplicate of the same object – your machine – but there's two of the same _person_ occupying one universe. The flow of both timelines has been affected. You have knowledge of the future which will alter your actions in the past, and your presence has changed the actions of those here, plus you've brought someone with you who's already passed on in this time,” Dende explained. 

“You make it sound like this is a lot worse than I thought.”

“I'm afraid I don't know enough to say for sure how things have been affected. However, I think we should still tread carefully to reduce the ripple that's been made.” 

“But during the Cell Games, there was another me from the apocalyptic future. Nothing bad happened from his appearance. Actually, he saved everyone by warning them, right?”

“It wasn't quite that simple,” Piccolo interrupted. “He tried to avoid interfering as little as possible in the beginning. Even so, his actions are what enabled Cell to become a threat.”

“And what has been only thirty years for you has been a century for us. Any nuances he may have revealed about his machine or its function have likely all been lost to our memories,” said Vegeta. 

“You're right... A lot must've happened between then and now. You guys are all at least a hundred years old each. Ah – I'm sorry,” Trunks reprimanded himself. “I mean, I guess you are old, but not in a bad way.”

“Saiyans retain their youth until age comes upon them all at once, within their last few years of life. The ageing process is minimal before then. Gohan is nowhere near as old as human conditioning makes you think he is, and I am young yet,” said Vegeta. 

“And Namekians live several hundreds of years – don't feel bad for pointing out our ages. Besides, Buu over there is several billion years old. It'll take a lot for us to feel old around him,” Gohan said, then muttered another few choice words under his breath about the Majin's maturity state. Said pink-skinned alien was entertaining himself some distance behind with a yo-yo, demonstrating his technique to Popo. 

“To my knowledge, I'll never age at all,” said Eighteen. 

“At least, unless your inner machinery decides to give out because you forgot to get an oil change,” Seventeen joked. His sister rolled her eyes. 

“Wow... I must seem like such a kid to you guys,” Trunks conceded. 

“How old _are_ you, Trunks?”

“Twenty-seven,” Trunks replied to Gohan's question, almost sheepish. 

“You have a great deal of life ahead of you, even more so than us,” said Dende. “Though I have my limitations, I promise to help you return to your time in any way I can. I'm certain the rest of us feel the same.”

“Thanks. If I can think of anything, I'll let you know... But for now, I guess I'm still left with plan D,” Trunks lamented. He only let the others have a chance to wonder what happened to plans A, B, and C before he continued speaking. 

“But that's not the only reason we came here. Dad, he – well, he told me he's been on and off the planet for years, and...” The man turned to let his father do the rest of the explaining.

“I have postponed my plans until Trunks returns to the past. However, I have every intention for this to be my last time on planet Earth.”

Vegeta's eyes scanned those who sat before him. Everyone, Trunks himself included, had given the Saiyan their full attention. “One by one, slowly but surely, you've all made your way up here. You recognize that the Earth below turns on its axis without you, your presence now an aberrant in human society. This planet has been safe from threat for decades because of our efforts. Is it not time now to move on?”

“What do you mean by that?” Asked Gohan, though he likely already knew the answer. 

“Kakarot left this place behind when he understood only memories remained here. He left to pursue his life's purpose further, into the reaches of the cosmos. Goten followed him some years after. For all my travels, I've been unable to locate Kakarot, so I continued to return... Gohan, you and Trunks are the last of my people. I am here to request of you, as a fellow warrior, to join me and leave Earth behind. However, this offer extends to the rest of you, if you so wish. You have all proven your strength as worthy.”

Trunks was surprised at the way his father had worded the offer. Vegeta's pride often made him incapable of making straightforward requests, instead of demands. The lavender-haired man could see he wasn't the only one impressed by the spark of humility shown by his father. 

“Vegeta...” Gohan began. He drew in a breath, seeming to weigh his following words. 

“I'm sure you remember that this planet is where I grew up. You lived here for a long time, and it became _your_ home too. It became your home because of the people who accepted you. I know you... lost a piece of that when Bulma passed on. And I know what it's like to – to lose the person you love and find yourself feeling lost. But I don't have that drive like you and my dad do to keep fighting on. I lived to protect Earth, and then to protect my family. Saiyan blood has been thinned to nothing, but because of this it's spread across more people than I could've ever thought. If that power ever emerges again in someone while I'm alive, I want to be there for that. Or for the descendants of the other Z fighters. I'm sorry, Vegeta, but I don't think I could bring myself to leave. Earth is where I belong.”

“Fair enough,” replied Vegeta, whose expression was unreadable. 

“If Gohan is staying, so am I,” said Piccolo. “Even when he's gone, I'll succeed his task of watching over his children and his children's children, as far as it may go. This was Goku's home, too. If he ever returns, things will be looking pretty sorry if Dende's the only one here.”

Dende was, of course, bound to the lookout, so he had no need to say anything – the same went for Popo. Logically, Buu ought to stay somewhere with a person willing to look after him, which Vegeta wouldn't do. Trunks' gaze shifted over to the twins, the only remaining candidates of those present. 

It was implied that Seventeen would do whatever his sister would do, so he stayed quiet. The blonde android seemed deep in thought, considering her options. Her ice blue eyes, a paler shade than Trunks' own, were locked onto some point on the floor. 

Despite their original differences, Vegeta and Eighteen got along well for erstwhile enemies, even if they both refused to admit it out loud. Trunks suspected she might accept the offer, as in the amount of time passed Krillin and Marron had both died, and that left only potential grandchildren, or great-grandchildren, that may not comprehend an ancestor who didn't age. 

“I have no answer for you,” Eighteen said, after a long pause. Vegeta raised an eyebrow, prompting her to explain her reply. 

“If I were to make this commitment, you too will eventually pass on, and I won't. However, I'm certain there are other civilizations out there in space, no? In any case, I need time to consider this. If you're waiting until your son can return to the past, I have that time to decide. I'll give you my answer then.”

Vegeta nodded. “This is also fair. For now, then, we should return to focusing on Trunks' problem. If the little Namekian says his presence is an issue...”

“Wait,” disrupted Gohan. “Is Trunks going with you? The older one.”

“He's remained ambivalent thus far.”

Gohan furrowed his expression for a moment before Dende spoke. 

“As long as we keep enough information about this time a secret, there shouldn't be any serious problems for either of us. But Trunks is free to talk about the past. Perhaps we should talk about something on a lighter note...”

While they avoided revealing too much of the future to Trunks, the group continued to converse for a while longer, reminiscing on very old memories. When the time came for Trunks and his father to leave and the latter said his farewells, Gohan stopped him for a word. 

“Dende didn't tell us when you got here, but he can tell us before you leave. I want to say goodbye to you one last time before you go back to the past. But even so, it won't be the last time we'll see each other. Once we've all passed on we'll meet in the afterlife. Dad will eventually run out of things to do in the world of the living at some point, if he's still here.”

Trunks nodded. “That sounds like Goku. Don't worry, I won't leave without saying a final goodbye. I'm sure Bulla would like to see you before we leave as well.”

Gohan smiled at that. 

As they prepared to take off, the lookout's dwellers said their temporary farewells. 

“Break a leg, Vegeta,” called Eighteen just before Trunks and his father ascended into the air. 

“Or an arm,” added Seventeen in a mutter. Trunks did not miss the look his father shot the twins, but he doubted the man wanted to get into it with the androids at the moment. 

Once they were back in the air, flying in the direction they'd come from, Trunks wondered how long they'd been gone, and if his older self and his sister had made any headway on the machine or finding its duplicate. 

“I wonder what they've been doing. Do you think they've found the other time machine?” Trunks asked, voicing his curiosities out loud. He knew that if anything drastic had happened, he would've been called via the gifted cellphone. 

“We'll see,” replied Vegeta. 

Trunks let the remainder of the flight be in silence. He wondered if his father was disappointed that Gohan had chosen to stay, or if it mattered at all when the events unfolding before him would be nothing but a memory – maybe even erased as a possibility, thanks to Trunks' meddling – as soon as the time machine was fixed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had major writer's block regarding how I wanted this chapter to unfold. I finally knuckled down and wrote it, so here you are. Also, lots of exposition going on here.


	7. Chapter 7

“Looks like they're not back yet,” Trunks noted as he searched for his sister's energy around the house and found nothing. 

The half-blood and his father had returned from their excursion to find the older Trunks' home empty. While the younger Trunks and Vegeta had gone to the lookout, the other two had headed off to search the archive – wherever that was. Since they'd gone into the city, presumably, their auras would be too hard to detect amidst the mass cluster of ki so many people in one place produced. 

The younger Trunks and Vegeta had been gone a few hours, so it was probable that the other two would return sooner or later, whether they'd been successful in retrieving the other time machine right away or not. And because the day was drawing to a close, the impending dusk would prompt them to return as well.

Even though the building belonged to his older counterpart, Trunks felt out of place in the house. However, Vegeta was either accustomed to being there or had no qualms about making himself comfortable, wandering around to retrieve himself a few pieces of food while Trunks sat on the couch, sliding his wristwatch in circles in an idle habit. With a small start, he realized the digital panel was still set to be tracking the time it'd been back home – back at the new year's party. 

Trunks couldn't help but wonder what everyone was doing. From a technical standpoint, they were doing nothing, as the answer would vary depending on the hour or day he and Bulla returned to, but he wondered nonetheless. How long would it take everyone to figure out what had happened? What would they do in response? And a small chance though it was, what if Bulla and Trunks never returned? What if they were trapped in a future where everything had drifted apart, years of their lives already spent? The thought made his stomach coil. The Dragon Balls were powerful, but not powerful enough to cross time. Unless the machine was fixed, there would be no way back.

Trunks gave a small, wry smile. His mother had managed to create something incredible enough to change the face of history, yet also had the potential to ruin it. Although she'd never been the one to use the machine, she deserved the credit for all the possibilities it brought. 

However, due to Trunks' unique situation, he'd also been forced to realize that everyone he knew was mortal. And for all her genius, his mother was even more susceptible for the mere fact she was human. Thinking about her absence in this future made a sore spot bloom behind Trunks' ribs – and not just for his own feelings on the loss. Despite Vegeta's calloused nature, Trunks knew it must've hit his father hard. 

As if on cue, the dark-haired Saiyan entered the living room, having satisfied his hunger for the time being. He sat down across from Trunks, levelling him with his flint-like gaze.

“Well?” Vegeta enquired. 

“Huh?”

“You've been staring at your hands for several minutes now. Have you come up with something?”

“No, not really. It looks like repairing the time machine is still the only thing we have to go on.”

A black cat paced around Vegeta's feet, rubbing itself against his legs. He gave it a perfunctory look before answering. "Then what have you been thinking about?"

"Everyone," Trunks replied. "I mean, where they've all gone, where they're going. This isn't my time, but it's my future, and... I know we toss around the word “dead” like it's not a big deal to be dead – and I guess when we've all been there and back a few times, it isn't. But I know it's not the same as this."

Vegeta waited in silence, and Trunks took the cue to elaborate. 

"In my time, the differences between you and mom are just starting to become obvious. Sure, she looks younger than most sixty-year-old women, but I don't think her concerns are really about her appearance anymore. She must recognize that she's changing and you're not.” Trunks paused, recalling his mother's slow descent into self-consciousness of being with her husband in public. It had only taken one time for Vegeta to be mistaken as Bulma's son-in-law for her to now always worry about it.

“But surely you must've known that. In fact, you're the only one who knows about the Saiyan race, so at some point you must've acknowledged she was going to pass on long before you did. And even if you both made peace with that – you lost Bulla too. Mom gone, Bulla gone, and Goku gone... Even if I was still there, I know what being alone does to you. I guess the same thing happened to me and Gohan and Goten, but we all had each other, yet you... You're the last true Saiyan left in the universe."

Trunks continued, staring at the floor. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry all that had to happen to you. Actually, I – I'm sorry I brought it up. It's probably just bad memories for you. I just never thought everything all us fighters have been through together amounts to... this."

The half-blood finally lifted his gaze up again. His father's jet eyes observed him, dark as the nothingness between the stars in the sky and carrying the same agelessness. For perhaps the first time in his life, Trunks could see the weight of all Vegeta's experience showing plain and unhidden.

“Don't be sorry,” Vegeta replied. “I understand you – but don't pity me the life I wouldn't change, even if I could do it over again. There is not a thing I regret, not one. My experiences forged me into the man I am, mistakes and all... I spent my life fighting and I'll fight until I arrive on the other side where your mother and sister are. I've never been afraid of death, nor what comes after. I've done it before. However,” his tone changed, “the second time I died, I was aware of what was happening. I was sent to hell.”

“Dad...”

“When I die for the last time, if I am sent there again I know that Bulma, and your sister... They will not be there. Neither will you when the time comes. No matter how long it takes all of you to pass on, it will make no difference to someone like me who was damned from the beginning. I will be accompanied only by the ghosts of my people, long since dead. When you return home, tell _him_ that – tell me. If there is one other thing you can change, make it so I am not eternally doomed to the underworld.”

Trunks himself had died once when Majin Buu destroyed the planet. Twice, if one counted the teen who'd come from the future to stop the androids. Dying itself wasn't something to dread. He knew his father wasn't scared of hell, or anything in it – actually, it would be hell that feared Vegeta – but that he would be alone there with no purpose.

“Dad, I...” Trunks began. “Look, I may not have been there all along, but you're not the same person you used to be. From the day I was born to when you sacrificed yourself, I know you changed. And you've continued to change even between then and now. With everything we've been through, Goku's connection with the Kais, your own redemption... You've repaid every debt you owed and more. You won't go to hell.”

“Perhaps,” Vegeta said after a pause. Then, his tone changed again, back to his usual blunt neutrality as he stood up. “But I wouldn't say I myself am on the best of terms with the Kais... I think I gave the little Supreme Kai a scare, all those years ago. I'm sure he'd prefer it if we never met again,” he said with a smirk. 

Before Trunks could say anything else, he noticed that his sister's energy had returned to the vicinity, accompanied by the ironically foreign feeling of his older self's ki. They could be heard entering through the front door a moment later. 

“We're back!” Bulla's voice came from the entryway. Trunks was relieved that she sounded happy, an improvement on her state of mood since he'd last seen her earlier that day. He copied his father's actions and stood, moving to greet her.

Upon seeing the younger of the two Trunks, Bulla grinned from ear to ear. 

“Trunks! You need to get a house like this!” She demanded. “The older you has so much cool stuff! And guess what! He also has more sports cars than you do!” She beamed. “And we got to drive around in them! I say 'them' because when we got home early and I asked to try another one, he said yes! How come you barely ever drive me anywhere?”

“Because,” Trunks said, before stopping himself from calling his sister one of the many synonyms of bothersome. Having recently discovered that she was at risk for a fatal illness, he was reconsidering how he thought of the 'chore' of spending time with or 'babysitting' her.

“And guess what else we got to do?” Bulla continued, oblivious to her brother's thoughts. “Well, first we went to some type of Capsule Corp warehouse, which was boring but that's where the other time machine was, but then since we had a bit of extra time after that, that's when we came back here to get another car and he took me shopping – he got us a few pairs of clothes, just in case, although you'd fit his there's no reason you wouldn't want your own, plus he got me some new makeup 'cause I didn't bring any, and then we did donuts in the parking lot, and then he bought me actual donuts -”

“Alright, alright,” Trunks interrupted. From Bulla's babbling, he's at least discerned that they'd located the other machine's capsule, though it was still unclear whether they'd been able to take it with them. His other self, who'd just finished setting bags of paraphernalia somewhere out of the way, returned. 

“Hey, you! This isn't a competition for who's the better brother,” Trunks said to him. The other man laughed. 

“What can I say? I forgot what having another Briefs around was like. Bulla Briefs, to be specific.”

“Yup. I always get what I want,” Bulla interjected. Though she also had a strong resemblance to her mother, in that moment, the natural angle of her cheekbones paired with the lift of her smirk had Trunks remembering yet again that he wasn't the only child of Vegeta. At least this time, the reminder wasn't because Bulla was having a rage fit. Although, perhaps the foreboding smirk was worse. 

“Oh – by the way,” the older Trunks interrupted as the four of them moved into the interior of the house, “I wasn't able to pick up the capsule today, but I can get it tomorrow morning.”

“That was quick, considering you thought it could take days,” the younger Trunks responded. He was glad, though, that progress had been made. 

“Well, for tonight, I can take a quick look at your machine after dinner. Assess the damage and whatnot. And since we don't know how long it could take to fix it, I'll set up rooms for you guys. Dad, do you want to stay as well?”

“No,” Vegeta answered his son. “I can sleep in my ship. I already ate – I can take my leave now and come back in the morning.”

“Are you sure? It's a big house, there's plenty of room.”

Vegeta declined the request again, prepping himself to leave. But before any temporary farewells went underway, Bulla came forward with a demand. 

“Wait! Before you go, I wanna take a picture of us! I took some with him,” she said, gesturing to the older Trunks, “but I want one with all four of us! And it's sunset, so it'll be nice.”

Vegeta's expression was dubious, his distaste for having his photo taken still prominent as always, Trunks recognized. 

“C'mon, please?” The blue-haired teen asked again. 

“Enough, Bulla,” Vegeta said, though there was no force behind the words. Even when he was stern with his daughter, there was rarely any true anger in his motives.

“Please please please _please?”_

Vegeta sighed, acquiescing with a subtle nod, even if just to avoid the pestering that Trunks knew would've been relentless, had his father continued to say no. 

The four of them made their way outside into the massive backyard. Trunks spotted an outdoor pool off to one side, and he would've suspected an indoor one as well if the almost-mansion of his future self was just a bit bigger. Trunks' apartment back in his own time was expensive, but conservative as far as size went, so the only reason he lacked more pricey add-ons was because he didn't have the room – and the living space he'd once shared with his family on Capsule Corp property already had all the extras anyway. 

Trunks wouldn't call himself extravagant, but he was tempted to change that once he got home, because his older self just _had_ to be a show-off and the half-blood wasn't about to be outmatched by himself. But instead of voicing it, he kept his commentary simple.

“Nice pool,” he said out loud to his future counterpart, keeping the tone ambiguous. 

“There's a hot tub, too,” came the reply, and Trunks was sure his older self was aware of the building inferiority complex. He probably thought it was funny. They were two versions of the same person, after all. 

“Here is good,” Bulla said, halting her soft footsteps in the manicured grass. The trees surrounding the backyard offered privacy, and the sun had sunk low enough to start peeking through the branches instead of being overhead. 

The four of them arranged themselves to Bulla's specifications, but before she did anything else, she spoke again to her father. 

“You'd better smile,” she said. “and I don't mean the one you have after you've punched Pan's grandpa in the face. I want you to smile like... um... uh...” Bulla trailed off, trying to think of a situation in which Vegeta didn't wear his permanent scowl. “Well, I know you smile sometimes, so you'd better think of something happy for me!” Bulla demanded, unable to come up with an answer herself. 

Vegeta breathed a sigh and crossed his arms, turning his face away to hide the faint blush of embarrassment. “Fine,” he conceded. 

“Bulla, let off a little, he's old,” the elder Trunks said with a faint laugh. 

“ _Tch._ She's nowhere near as draining as Gotenks was,” said Vegeta. 

“What's wrong with Gotenks?” The younger twin half-blood asked, reminiscing on the useful transformation, and also wondering why the collective fusion was worse than its two predecessors as individuals. 

Bulla made an uncultured snorting noise, like the question amused her. Vegeta didn't answer directly, but Trunks heard his father mutter 'devil child' under his breath and then something that seemed to closely rhyme with 'ducking more-able derision.'

Before Trunks could ask for an explanation, Bulla took out her cellphone, angling it so that it caught the sun but didn't shade in their faces. After taking a few snapshots, she looked them over for a moment before declaring they were to her liking.

“These are awesome. Like, how many times in my life am I gonna be in this kind of situation? Gotta make the most of it,” she said. 

After tucking her phone away, Bulla demanded she give her father a proper goodbye. “I'll see you tomorrow!” she crooned, wrapping her arms around him. Though he looked uncomfortable at the affectionate display, he ruffled her hair a little before she let go and gave him a bright smile.

Vegeta gave a single nod towards his sons before he took off into the air, heading for his ship. 

 

\---

 

After the older Trunks had brought home takeout for the three of them, the group had filed into the house's basement, where all the mechanical equipment was kept, as well as a few unfinished projects. The area reminded Trunks of his mother's workshop, the very same one that had led him into the whole mess in the first place. 

They moved into a wide, empty corner, the older Trunks moving a workbench over nearby to hold whatever instruments he might need. 

“Alright. Let's get the capsule open so I can take a look. I don't know what kinds of tools I need without seeing the damage.”

The younger Trunks produced the object in question from his pocket, tossing it out in front of him after clicking the button to open it. In a brief puff of smoke, the time machine stood before them. 

“Luckily for us, Bulla kept her temper in check and didn't decide to bash up the outside too,” Trunks said. 

“I could always let it out right now and bash you up,” the girl threatened. The younger of the two men rolled his eyes, and the older smiled at the statement as he sprang up to the top of the machine and opened the glass hatch. He settled himself down inside, leaving the lid open while the younger Trunks waited on the ground with Bulla to hear the initial diagnosis on the damage.

While he couldn't see his older self's expression, Trunks became a little anxious at the prolonged silence that followed. “How does it look?” He called up. 

The older Trunks poked his head over the side. “Uh, you kids really did a number on this thing. The dashboard is pretty mangled – I can tell you without even looking that the circuitry underneath is crushed. I mean, hopefully it's not as extensive as it looks, but I need to go get tools so I don't make it worse. I don't think I'm going to try turning it on yet. I don't know how much charge is left. Plus, I don't want anything to explode.”

“Um... Explode?” The Trunks from the past echoed. He hadn't thought it was that bad, based on the quick look he'd taken just after he and his sister had first arrived. He'd tried to reactivate the machine right then. Deciding to keep that apparently reckless detail to himself, he said nothing else. 

The older Trunks hopped down, walking off to hunt down what he needed. “Wait here. I'll be right back,” he instructed. 

Brother and sister stayed where they were, indulging in awkward silence as their host left the room. 

“I hate it when people call me a kid,” Bulla muttered. Trunks gave her a worn look.

“For the record, he lumped us into that description together. I think I'm the one who should be offended, squirt.”

“Whatever. He's literally your future self, so if I was you I'd be pretty darn thrilled to know that I become halfway decent at some point.”

“And right now, I'm indecent because... why?”

“'Cause you're so unfair.”

Trunks sighed. “Bulla, I just do what older brothers are supposed to do. I mean sure, I'm not perfect, but I bet there's lots of younger brothers and sisters in the world who think their siblings are unfair.” He'd always thought of himself as being the only one in the family with an ego anywhere near a normal size – which was still saying a lot – but he was aware of his shortcomings, and the only way he'd ever call himself unfair was when he sometimes bent the rules to win when sparring. 

“No, you're wrong, and that's why you're unfair. Aside from being a snotty big brother to me, you are perfect. You're, like, super smart and super strong and mom and daddy talk about your accomplishments all the time. It doesn't matter if I do those things because you've already done them. You helped save the world before. And what happens to me? I just die because of some lousy disease,” Bulla said, crossing her arms and looking away.

Trunks stared at his sister. 

After a minute of no response, she looked back his way. “What? It's true. The future you is different only because he doesn't treat me like I'm here for nothing.”

“You aren't,” Trunks said, “here for nothing. And you're not going to die. I'm not trying to demean you when I say this, but you're only thirteen years old. You can be whoever you want, and who knows what's going to happen? For all we know, you and Panny are going to blow everything we've done right out of the water.”

Trunks ruffled Bulla's hair. “You're Bulla Briefs, remember? Man, this whole time travel business must really have you down. This little sister of mine is a pain in the butt sometimes, but she never lets a little thing like this dull her shine.”

The young blue-nette smiled and tilted her head. Then, she rolled her eyes. “Trunks, we _do_ know what's gonna happen. We're in the future, dummy.”

“I don't think the future's as set as you believe, princess,” Trunks replied, recalling how one decision could change fate in the blink of an eye. 

“Oh, is that so? In that case, I guess I can tell you all about the picture of your future wife I accidentally saw. Old Trunks made me triple-extra swear not to ever mention it, but if you think it's not important...”

“Ha. Proof that somewhere in the next seventy-five years I meet a girl who I don't break up with and isn't terrified of my family. Thanks, but no thanks. I think I prefer surprises.”

“Suit yourself. Oh, and by the way, we're only scary 'cause mom thinks the girls you date are shallow and dad thinks humans aren't good enough for you. It's weeded out all the weak women so far, hasn't it?”

“Yeah, the weak women and all the women sane enough to realize we're nuts.” He was certain his sister would have a much harder time with dating, but he didn't say so out loud.

“Don't worry. Someday you'll find somebody who likes you for more than just your looks or your money,” she said, patting him on the arm solemnly. 

“Uh, thanks, that makes me feel... better?” He tried. 

“Hey. The Sons are way weirder than us, and they all have relationships. 'Cept for Pan, but that's because her dad won't let her until she'd older. But my point is, don't worry your perfect, stupid head about it. Hearing you complain makes me feel better about myself.”

“I'll bet it does, you little...”

A punctuated cough interrupted the duo's conversation. Trunks turned to see his older self leaning against the doorway, carrying a small box of tools and smiling. 

“And how long have you been standing there?” Trunks demanded of his future counterpart. 

The other man said nothing, walking into the room and maintaining his grin. As he walked by, he reached into his box and tossed the two of them one object from it each. 

“If you feel like having some more bonding moments, you can do it over helping me fix this highly complex time machine,” he explained. 

The two siblings followed the man, Bulla pulling what she'd been given over her head and eyes – a pair of goggles. 

“You look like an anime character with those on,” Trunks commented. 

 

\---

 

The next morning, Trunks awoke in the room he'd been offered, giving a languid stretch. The previous night, they'd all stayed up late inspecting the machine, and even replacing a few basic components. Although the older Trunks had admitted that, indeed, the other machine was needed for proper repairs, getting at least a small amount of headway had been satisfying. 

Earlier, the man had heard someone leave the house in a vehicle and return some time later, leading Trunks to assume that his older self had gone and retrieved the capsule while everyone else was still asleep. The quiet sounds of a body shuffling around in the kitchen downstairs also meant that he was preparing breakfast or coffee, or both. 

Trunks rolled out of bed, stretching some more before heading over to the clothes he'd been given to wear. After changing and fussing with his hair a little, he headed to the ground floor to join his twin. 

Once there, the two made small conversation, the older offering to make breakfast for the younger, though Trunks insisted he could do it himself, or at least help in preparing. After their combined meal of several dozen eggs, a loaf or two of bread, four packages of bacon and a few cartons of juice, the two were satisfied. Knowing that Bulla liked to sleep in, the two indulged themselves in coffee, small talk and cat-petting for a good half-hour until they could sense Vegeta's presence approaching. 

The younger Trunks sensed the full-blooded Saiyan's ki touch down outside before the man himself entered, without decorum or more than a grunted greeting. 

“Coffee?” The older Trunks offered, Vegeta accepting. As the other man got up to serve his father, Vegeta planted himself on a nearby chair and spoke. 

“You've already started work with our time machine, then,” he stated.

“Um, no, not yet. I did manage to bring the capsule home earlier and get it open, but I wanted to wait until everyone was up before I did anything else,” the older Trunks said, handing his father a mug of black java. 

“We did get a little bit done on mine and Bulla's time machine yesterday, after you left,” the younger Trunks added. 

“Hn,” Vegeta sounded as he took a sip of his drink. Then, after flicking his gaze between the two half-bloods, gave a wry smirk.

“I don't suppose you two have noticed at all,” he said. 

“Noticed what?” Both Trunks and his older self asked at once. 

“It would be unnerving if it wasn't amusing. Just like yesterday, you're sharing the exact same posture when doing the same task. Even your expressions are the same right now,” Vegeta explained. 

Trunks met eyes with his older self, a split second before realizing that they were, in fact, sitting the exact same way, holding their coffees the exact same way – and then, a moment later, sitting up a little straighter, then chuckling about it at the same time. 

“At least we aren't dressed the same,” the older twin added. 

A short time later, when the three had finished their drinks, Bulla had still not yet awoken so they agreed not to begin without her. However, Vegeta was curious to see the machines for himself, so both Trunks and his older self agreed that it would be fine to show him. 

Since the younger Trunks' time machine was still disengaged from its capsule in the basement, the trio headed down there to release the other one. But when they were within sight of the damaged device, the older Trunks halted.

“Hold on. I think I forgot the other one upstairs,” he said, before gesturing for his father and counterpart to wait. Vegeta raised an eyebrow as the older Trunks headed off to fetch the other time machine. 

It was only a minute or two before he returned with the small pill. 

“Here it is,” he said. “I was worried that the containment capsule might not work after all these years, but I tested it earlier and it opened just fine. Although it's probably not a good idea to throw it.”

To avoid throwing it, the older Trunks knelt down, clicking the button on top of the capsule before releasing it into a quick roll. The three of them stepped back a little, the younger Trunks holding his breath in anticipation. 

A cloud of smoke, and there it was. Minus the slight weathering, it looked much the same as the other one. Trunks had expected more wear-and-tear to become evident over the years, but he also supposed that the storage capsule must have protected it somewhat. The sight gave him hope – perhaps if this one was in perfect condition, it alone would suffice to bring him and his sister home. 

“Now, I haven't actually tried to turn this one on either,” the other Trunks admitted. “I thought I might have to open the capsule manually, but obviously that didn't turn out to be a problem. If a little upkeep has been done on this machine, it might run better than the damaged one, even if it's old. Although, I doubt there are many people, even within Capsule Corp, that know how to do maintenance on something like this. Our main concern here is whether it can even hold enough charge to get you back to the past, but mixing and matching parts might... Dad, what's with that face?”

The younger Trunks, who'd been distracted by the machines, turned to look at the man in question.

Vegeta looked perplexed. From his bewilderment, it was clear that something stood out to him, and that something wasn't good. 

“ _That's_ the other time machine?” He blurted.

“Of course,” the older Trunks replied, confused.

“Uh, yeah, it'd be kinda worrying if they _weren't_ replicas,” the younger Trunks said. 

“But if these are the both of them, where the hell did the one outside come from?” Vegeta demanded, uncrossing his arms.

It was so quiet that if a pin had dropped, Trunks would've heard it from across the house.

“Um... The what?” He enunciated after a moment, not sure if he'd misunderstood something.

“When I flew here this morning, there was one outside! Don't tell me you didn't notice. I thought it was you who put it there!” Vegeta claimed.

“Whoa whoa, wait, what? You're telling us there was a _different_ time machine outside?” The older Trunks asked, confounded. 

“But you didn't get here that long ago!” The younger Trunks cried. “You're saying you saw another machine outside _less than fifteen minutes ago?”_

“Yes! Do I need to repeat myself?”

The oldest Trunks began heading for the stairs first, the other two men jogging after him. “What the hell? For the love of Dende, why didn't you say something before? Why would I leave a time machine lying around outside? And it doesn't even look the same?” 

“Well, I assumed the one from our time could've had some changes made in seventy-five years, or perhaps I was being too _presumptuous,_ ” Vegeta said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Maybe I thought you needed to air it out after so long in storage, who cares? I know what I saw.”

After climbing the staircase in haste, the trio darted across the house to get to the nearest door. Bursting outside, Vegeta took the lead, intending to show Trunks and his other self what he was talking about. 

They rounded the side of the house, nearing the woods a little before Vegeta stopped. Trunks and his twin darted their gazes around until their father spoke. 

“It was right there,” he stated, pointing in a somewhat vague direction at the trees. 

“Are you sure?” The other Trunks asked. 

“Of course I'm sure, brat! Do you think I would dream this up for sport?”

Trunks the younger moved to stand where his future father had been pointing, next to the trees. “Here?”

“A few feet to your left,” Vegeta replied, and Trunks corrected his position.

“What did it look like?” The other Trunks asked.

“Very similar shape to yours, but bigger and taller maybe. Different paint job, more colour. In mint condition.”

Trunks, standing in his father's approximation of where the foreign craft had stood, began studying the spot. Since the time machines were held up on spokes, there was no point looking for imprints in the grass – it would be impossible to spot. 

He gave the air a curious sniff. His heightened sense of smell wasn't something he often relied upon, but he wanted to be sure he didn't miss anything. 

The air smelled cool and clean, with the hint of crispness in it that suggested it was the springtime. Nothing out of the ordinary.

“There's nothing here,” he noted, before turning to inspect something that caught his eye. “Wait – there's a couple branches broken here.” He poked at the bark, listening in on his father and other self's debate. 

“This doesn't make sense. The appearance of another time traveller here can't just be a coincidence,” the other Trunks said. 

“Yes. And they must've appeared sometime overnight or this morning. It wasn't there yesterday evening when I left.”

“I went out to get the capsule earlier today and didn't see anything, so it must've been in between that time and now that it appeared... and then disappeared, for some reason. Could it be that the pilot realized they might be spotted so close to the house? Or did they not know there were people here at first? Dad, maybe they saw you fly in!”

“Perhaps. But that does not explain who would have the means or reason to be here. Obviously, they've made no effort to catch our notice.”

“Could mom from the past have figured out we were gone, and then built another time machine for someone to come find us?” Trunks postulated, walking back over to his other self and Vegeta, his boots crunching the morning grass.

“No, that doesn't make sense. Even if they figured out what happened back in your timeline, they would have no way of knowing where you went. And even if they managed to guess you went forwards, dad said it was in good condition. It certainly hadn't been sitting around for years waiting for us. And why would mom keep herself hidden?” The other Trunks said.

“Is it possible we... we get back home, and send someone forward, but not far enough – just to before we leave – for some reason?” The Trunks from the past asked.

“That still doesn't explain why it's not the same time machine. And there would have to be a really good reason for us to mess around with it again. And then, there's still the problem of the pilot keeping themselves quiet.”

“The machine wasn't exactly out in the open,” Vegeta interrupted. “It wasn't hidden, but then again, it can't be easy to hide something of that size. It didn't manifest directly in front of the house or inside of it.”

“Was it that much bigger? Do you think more than one person could fit inside? I mean, Bulla and I both used mine, but it was a bit of a squish,” the younger Trunks said.

“I didn't look inside, but I'd say it's feasible for it to have fit at least three people comfortably,” Vegeta replied. 

“Then it's possible that there was more than just the pilot. Has anyone sensed any new energies around?”

The other two shook their heads. 

“Either way,” Vegeta theorized, “whoever brought it here must've returned it to its compartment by now. If anybody else in the universe created a time machine, it would likely have an entirely different design, correct? Only Earth's Capsule Corporation has this technology. So that means when I saw it, its owner probably wasn't far off. Not only that, but if they are aware of what ki is – and if they had the strength to steal Capsule Corporation equipment from this planet, it's likely – then it's very possible they're still here, and they are suppressing their presence from us.”

The three were quiet, letting it sink in. 

“We ought to wake Bulla,” Vegeta said, a note of urgency in his voice. 

“Oh, Bulla! She's probably still asleep! We got caught up and I left her inside,” the younger Trunks said. “Wait here. I'll go get her.”

Before the other two could say a thing, he turned heel and headed off for the door he'd left from. Breaking into a light jog, he extended his senses to try and locate his sister's ki.

Had the situation not been so full of unknowns, Trunks wouldn't have allowed himself to feel the small pit of worry in his stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trunks makes ironic jokes, apparently. 
> 
> On a different note, there seems to be two different versions used of the last name “Briefs,” or “Brief.” I have no idea which one is correct, but since I've been using the former as both the singular and plural versions I'll stick with it for the rest of the story.


	8. Chapter 8

Bulla grumbled, as she always did when she had the displeasure of being interrupted from sleep. In this case, she was sure the other residents of the place had had good intentions at first – Trunks, the both of them, had been quiet miraculously – but when they'd decided to thunder across the house to get outdoors for Dende knew what reason, the noise had woken her.

Bulla rolled out of bed. Considering it was just family members downstairs, or outside, she didn't bother to make herself look presentable at all, taking only a brief look in the mirror before leaving her room in her pajamas. Besides, aforementioned family was about to get a verbal lashing for waking up Bulla Briefs at such an ungodly hour as eight-thirty _ante meridiem._

Her quiet footsteps were the sole sound anywhere in the house, at least as far as she could tell. At the bottom of the steps, Mr. Chubby the cat joined her with a soft meow.

“Good morning to you too,” she said to it. “You hungry?”

It rubbed against her leg. Stepping around the feline, she headed into the kitchen area. 

Bulma Briefs had never been the best cook. It was either her parents, hired staff, or the hungry individual themselves who had to prepare the food. As such, Bulla wasn't unfamiliar with making herself breakfast, but first, as disgruntled as she was, the cat needed attention. 

“Now, if I was a hundred-year-old half alien man living alone, where would I keep my cat food?” Bulla murmured to herself. As often as she liked to taunt her brother, she herself enjoyed the company of cats almost as much. Trunks had somehow learned to tolerate the scent of animal hair, but Bulla couldn't overcome the one drawback of a keen sense of smell, and was reduced to keeping a fish tank for the only pets she could handle. Of course, her mother never let her have anything _really_ exotic, but whatever. It wasn't like her parents didn't let her have a million other things she wanted. 

Just as she was about to attempt a full-scale investigation of the kitchen, a clattering noise somewhere behind her put her on alert.

Bulla paused, then picked up the cat. She swore she saw a shadow move in the hallway, and though she wasn't scared, she was cautious. Her father and at least one brother were outside, though it was hard to tell the difference in ki between the two Trunks', so she couldn't always tell unless they were enough distance apart. 

“Hello?” She called out to whatever had made the noise. It could just be another cat... Another cat with a shadow shaped like a person. 

“Is that you, Trunks?” Bulla tried again, walking over to where the sound had come from. She peered around the corner into the hallway, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. However, there were a few rooms at the end of the corridor, plus a large closet on one side that seemed slightly ajar. 

“You'd better not be hiding in there to jump out and scare me, or I'm gonna tell everybody that you were in the closet,” she threatened, approaching said storage space.

Clutching the fat feline with one arm, Bulla grabbed the door handle with the other. “I am not in the mood for one of your jokes,” she said as she swung the door open. 

The storage closet was empty.

_Huh. I guess I'm imagining things,_ she thought to herself, giving the inside one last look before closing the door again. 

Not bothering to check the other rooms, Bulla sauntered back to the kitchen with the cat still in her arms. Trunks was right – being in the future was putting her on edge for no reason.

She let out a long, low sigh, but in the moment of quiet after her exhalation, she heard a very soft tap on the ground several feet behind her. A moment later, the cat was struggling to get out of her arms. 

In her surprise, she released it at once, the motion turning her around to face a person standing there that hadn't been a moment ago, and the cause of the cat's agitation. Bulla jumped, but regained her composure within a millisecond. 

“Oh! Trunks, it is just you,” Bulla sighed, then put her hands on her hips. She'd only awoken within the hour, so she had little patience for one of his games. “Don't look so surprised at _me._ What, were you floating on the ceiling? What did I just say a few minutes ago? This isn't funny, and you guys already woke me up with your running around. Also, this cat needs to be fed.”

Trunks was still staring at her, with an expression plastered on his face that was part vexation and part apprehension.

“How are you here?” He asked without a hint of context, almost like he was saying it to himself.

“Huh? What do you mean?” Bulla replied, then put on hold whatever her follow-up demand would've been as she looked her brother up and down. “Also, what's up with your weird outfit? Does it have something to do with all the noise earlier?” 

Peeking over his shoulder, Bulla raised an eyebrow. “And why do you have a -”

She didn't get to finish as Trunks grabbed her, muffling her startled yelp of surprise as he tugged her back around the corner. Bulla could hear the sound of the front door opening as her brother, faster than a bullet, stuffed them both into the closet she'd examined earlier. 

“I'm so sorry about this, but please, stay quiet and lower your energy. Trust me,” Trunks whispered, closing the door so they were in stuffy darkness. 

Bulla was about to do just the opposite of that, but something in her brother's words – paired with the fact that she heard the other one calling her from the entryway of the house – made her keep quiet for the sake of curiosity. 

Because now, according to her ki sensing ability, there was in fact one Trunks outside, one by the house entrance, and now one that had dragged her into an incommodious and unfashionable storage closet. This was going to be interesting. 

When the other one seemed to have gone upstairs, Bulla took it as her chance to whisper. “Is it a thing with you to try and squish me out of my own personal space? In other words, your elbow is crushing my sternum and I can't breathe.”

“Sorry,” Trunks said, shifting his arm.

There was a full minute of silence as the two of them listened to one of the other Trunks' footsteps upstairs as he searched for Bulla, occasionally calling her name. 

“Look,” the closest Trunks whispered back. “I can't explain everything right now, but the bottom line is I can't be seen by anyone else until I figure out what's going on. You seem to know who I am already, so please just trust me.”

Of course she knew who he was, she thought to herself. But if he found that surprising, that meant there was more to this new Trunks than met the eye. Bulla wondered what mishap on her brother's part – because of course it would be his fault – had caused this new development, and why it was so serious to this guy, but she knew she wouldn't get her answers first unless she complied. 

“Is it dangerous?” She asked slowly, and idea forming in her mind. 

“Could be, yes. We can keep things under control if you agree to help me by not saying a word. You weren't supposed to see me.”

"I see. I think I understand now," Bulla muttered in all seriousness, her eyes widening in realization. It all made sense. This type of thing was bound to happen with time travel, anyway. 

Trunks' gaze looked into hers, awaiting her next words.

"One of you is an evil clone," she murmured. 

“What in the – no,” Trunks responded.

“That's just something a clone would say, if you're the one that is. It explains your weird outfit, too.”

Trunks let out a bit of soft laughter. “Again, this isn't the time or place to explain this, but I promise I'm not an evil clone. But I do need to interfere as little as possible. In a few minutes, that guy upstairs is going to start searching the rest of the house, and he'll find us. You need to go to him and tell him everything is fine. You can't tell him you saw me though, okay? It's very, very important.”

“But I wanna know what's going on too. Are you gonna come back? If you aren't gonna explain who you are, I might just be tempted to tell daddy and the other two Trunkses about you.”

“ _Two_ Tru – ? Ah, okay. Okay. If you don't say a word about me, I can keep myself hidden until nightfall. Can I come meet you after everyone is asleep? I'll explain things then."

Bulla pursed her lips, hearing her other brother come down the stairs. “Okay,” she agreed. 

She then squiggled out of the closet, trying not to make too much noise, and then closed the door to it behind her before heading off down the hall. She gave it one last look before rounding the corner. 

“Bulla! There you are,” her real brother said. “Where were you? Why were you hiding your energy?”

“I was in the bathroom,” she lied. “I was also trying to find cat food.” The truth. 

Trunks raised an eyebrow. “Alright, whatever. Nevermind that. You won't believe what happened.”

 

\---

 

Over mouthfuls of the food the older Trunks had prepared her, the three men explained to her about the machine Vegeta had seen outside. 

Trunks noted that, oddly enough, Bulla made no interruptions at all, whether from her hunger distracting her or something else. Her eyes flicked between the three men as they each interjected to the conversation, trying to give her a clear account of the morning's events. 

“That explains all the noise you made,” she said once finished. 

“The question is, what are we going to do about it? Our time machines downstairs appear to be untouched so far,” the oldest Trunks noted, “but even so, what could possibly have been the unknown pilot's purpose?”

“Maybe they came looking for something and didn't find it. Maybe they landed in the wrong time, or the wrong place,” said the younger Trunks. Considering how brief their stay had been, and how finicky time travel could be, he thought it a very possible option. 

“Maybe he just wanted to scope out the situation first,” Bulla supplied out of nowhere.

“ _He?_ ” Vegeta questioned. 

Bulla shrugged. “Semantics, daddy.”

Vegeta narrowed his eyes a little, but dropped his nitpick-y enquiry when Trunks ventured to speak again. 

“Whatever the reason, they're gone now. All we can do is keep our guard up, because chances are their landing next to the house was no accident. We can also assume that means they wanted something from you,” he said, gesturing to his older self, “and since they didn't try to talk to you and didn't take anything, they'll probably turn up again. We just have to wait.”

“The pilot can fly,” Vegeta said, as if just realizing it himself. “The machine is too high off the ground for an ordinary person to reach. I was correct in assuming its occupant can manipulate their energy to at least a certain degree. They've likely learned from their slip-up and therefore, it'll be a challenge to try simply waiting them out.”

The first part of his father's statement made Trunks wonder how Bulla, with her limited flight capabilities, had ever gotten in the time machine in the first place, but he didn't bother asking. Instead, he put forth another question.

“Wouldn't Dende have seen them?”

“Perhaps. There's a lot to see on this planet, something so brief may have slipped his notice,” said Vegeta. 

“So we have no leads, basically, aside from the fact that the occupant, or occupants, of the unknown time machine can probably fly, and probably have some connection with Capsule Corp. That still doesn't give us anything to move on. We're going to have to wait anyway,” the older Trunks said. 

Vegeta gave a small growl of frustration, then turned to Bulla. 

“You're sure you didn't notice anything unusual in here while we were outside?”

“No,” she said, scratching her nose. “The only thing unusual is that you already asked me that.”

“I'm simply ensuring that you haven't remembered something – anything out of the ordinary.”

“Well gee, daddy, if you put it like that, this entire thing's been out of the ordinary for me since I left a boring new year's party a few days – oh, I mean seventy-five years ago. Waking up this morning to pet an obese cat has been the most normal thing this whole time.”

Vegeta crossed his arms. “ _Tch._ ” 

“He really isn't that fat,” the oldest Trunks interrupted. “The cat, I mean. He's just got a lot of fur.”

“Pretty sure fur isn't the part that jiggles when he hops up on the table,” Bulla retorted as the feline did just that. The other Trunks stood and grabbed the cat, holding it in his arms. 

“I think he's had enough of your judgemental attitude.”

“I think he's also had enough of whatever you've been feeding him.”

The youngest Trunks face-palmed as the bickering between his older self and his sister carried on. It seemed no matter how old he got, this type of rambling conversation would be a staple of his dynamic with Bulla. 

“Trunks,” Vegeta called, “you're squabbling with a twelve year old girl.”

The older Trunks made no response as he moved to deposit his cat on the ground, but Bulla seemed to take offence to the comment. 

“I'm thirteen!” She squeaked, gearing up for a rant targeted at anyone in her vicinity.

“I thought you guys would've remembered how _not_ to enable her by now,” the youngest Trunks said, repeating the same warning he'd given before as his words became muffled by the tabletop he'd planted his face in. 

 

\---

 

Later on, with no other alternatives but to continue working on the time machines, the group was back in the basement, this time delving into the devices' interiors in a more thorough fashion.

Both Trunks and his other self were examining the mechanical innards of the machine from the past, wires and circuit boards exposed to the air along with a few foreign components. The younger of the two men watched his older self navigate the maze of technology with a careful familiarity, being extra gentle around the spots where the damage was obvious. 

The calculated silence was occasionally marred with bits of speech.

“What's that light for?”

“Which one?”

“That one there.”

“Mm.”

“Is it supposed to be blinking?”

“Yeah, that just means it – wait, no, it isn't supposed to do that. Hold on.”

“It won't actually explode or anything, right?”

“Probably not.”

“Probably?”

“Does it count as introspection every time you ask me a question? Or is it different because I know everything about you and you only know a little bit about me?”

“Minus your extra years, we have the same brain. Now that I think about it, it's weird to know that we probably have a lot of the same thoughts. Is that closer to mind-reading or being identical twins?”

“I think it's something altogether more uncomfortable. Pass me that wrench.”

Trunks did as he'd been requested and passed his older self the tool. 

“I guess it is weirder for you, since you've already been in my place before – not counting the time travel part. Speaking of which, where did you actually learn how to fix this sort of thing? I doubt you've worked on a time machine before.”

“No, I never have. To be honest, though some of the repairs are more basic, the rest are really just trial and error at this point. In some ways, I know only as much as you do. Although, mom did design this, and I've worked with her projects enough times to recognize patterns she does. Or did.”

“Wow. Real comforting.”

“Ah. Got it open. Take a look at this.”

Trunks peered in to the depths of the machine. The objects in questions were a set of half a dozen glass cylinders that glowed blue, arranged in a circular formation around what he guessed was an motor of some kind.

“See these? Do you know what they are?” The older Trunks asked. 

“Engine components?”

“Uh-huh. Can you explain exactly how they work?”

“No.”

“Me neither. Not even one hundred percent sure what they are, actually, but since they're all in one piece it's not a big problem. I think they're a turbine type of power source, but I have no clue what this is inside them. Neat, huh?”

“They look volatile,” Trunks said as he removed one to inspect it closer. A small twist to release it from its slot and it was free. “It's probably not safe to pull them out like this.”

“Definitely not,” said the older man as he did just that with another. 

Vegeta's voice interrupted the two lilac-haired men from their curiosity. 

“Now is not the time for any mischief of yours, Trunks.”

“That's right. Daddy and I can hear you guys talking,” Bulla's voice added. “It sounds like you're making it worse up there.”

Trunks leaned from his perch on the lip of the machine to get a look at his sister and future father. The two had paused their game of cards, wearing an almost identical glare from where they sat cross-legged on the floor.

“Don't worry, we know exactly what we're doing. Right Trunks?” He asked his older self. 

“Yup. It's just like changing a lightbulb.”

Several minutes later, the other Trunks declared that he was going to try testing the power. The younger twin hopped down to stand on the floor next to the machine, giving his older self room in the small cockpit. 

“I hope this works,” the older Trunks said, presumably beginning to hit the buttons that would initiate the start-up. 

The younger Trunks, with his father and sister, waited in anxious silence for the tell-tale sign that their progress had made some effect. 

As the minute ticked on, nothing changed, nor did any sound pierce the quiet. 

“Is it doing anything?” Trunks asked from down below. 

“The display is on,” came the reply, “but for some reason the machine itself won't – oh...”

“What? What is it?”

The older Trunks stuck his arm and head out over the side. “It's completely out of charge.”

“Oh. Is that all?” The younger Trunks said with a breathy laugh. For a moment there, he'd thought it was something much worse. The time machine was capable of recharging – being dry of power was no permanent problem. 

The Trunks in the machine vaulted down over the side, more serious than before as he moved to explain. 

“You probably already know that this isn't irreversible. However, the device needs to be hooked up to a battery source to charge properly. It's gonna take a ton of juice, which not only requires getting a generator powerful enough, but we'll have to come up with something to attach them. This is all aside from the other things I haven't completely fixed.”

“That's fine. Getting a generator and cables is something that can be done, right?”

“Yes,” the other Trunks answered, pursing his lips. There still seemed to be something about the issue that troubled him.

“How long does it take to charge?” The Trunks from the past continued. 

“That's the thing. I don't know... Mom came up with this design mostly through her own innovation, right? I mean, the one that gave her inspiration in the first place was only around for the Cell Games. She didn't start building this one 'til long after that, right dad?” The older Trunks looked at his father to confirm. 

“That's right,” the man responded, then something seemed to occur to him and he narrowed his eyes in thought. 

“No, wait. Cell used one and it was left behind with us. I recall it looking like a rusted scrapheap, but it's possible she may have gleaned some small use from it anyway.”

“Okay,” the older Trunks said, turning back to his counterpart to continue. “So, even taking that into account, we can assume a lot of work for this model was still original design. I think mom had planned to do more work on it someday and never got around to it. But also, even if I manage to get either of these ones good as new, there's still the concern of how long it'll take to charge. Considering how many years you travelled across...” 

The other Trunks ran a hand through his hair, contemplating his true answer. 

“It could be months,” he finished. 

“Months?” Trunks asked. “As in, two months or eleven?”

The counterpart shook his head. “I can understand enough of the display to see whether it has the charge for a trip when the waiting period is over, but... if we're lucky, maybe six or seven months. I can't really sugarcoat it.”

Trunks swallowed. That was a lot longer than he'd though, even for an optimistic guess. If the other man had said one or two, Trunks was sure he and Bulla would manage somehow, but _six_ or _seven_ or _more..._

“How long if we're not lucky?” He asked. 

“If we're not lucky,” the older half-blood said, “then it takes me a month or two to do the repairs first, and then – up to a couple years to charge it. Because of the amount of time you need to cross. I'm not even sure the machine was made to go this far in the first place. I'm sorry, I really can't tell you for sure.”

Two years. While not the worst prognosis Trunks had expected, two years was still a chunk of their lives to be lost in time. For Bulla, it would be worse. 

“I'm sorry,” the counterpart repeated. “I'm sorry there's nothing better I can do.”

 

\---

 

Bulla had spent the remainder of the day in her semi-permanent bedroom, sulking. She had refused food, despite the insistence of her brothers and father and their offering to bring it up to her. 

She wasn't hungry. She was lonely – lonely for her real home. And although her real brother was with her, she wanted to see her real father, wanted to hold her mother, wanted to laugh and talk with her friends. 

Her aforementioned real brother had tried to offer her comfort, but she didn't want it right then. She knew that their apparent stay for the long-haul upset him too, but Bulla just wanted some time alone until she could compose herself. If she had to see one more look of pity on anybody's face she was going to wind up breaking things. 

The house was quiet, everyone having settled down for the night. Bulla hadn't even bothered to change out of her clothes. Vegeta had agreed to stay, if only to keep a look out for the stranger with the unknown time machine. Judging by their current predicament, Bulla thought it was a sound idea to try to catch whoever the mystery pilot was – and she was sure that the extra Trunks who'd appeared had something to do with it.

She sighed, rolling onto her back and throwing an arm over her eyes. How did a simple and stupid mistake wind up so complicated? 

Just then, the softest of rapping could be heard on her window. 

The curtain was drawn, but a vague shadow could be seen beyond it. All at once, Bulla remembered that the Trunks look-alike had promised something about coming back at night. And since there wasn't anybody else who'd be waiting at her second-story window, and had gotten there without making any noise, she was sure it was him. She couldn't sense anything, but he would be cloaking his ki for obvious reasons. 

Swinging her legs off the bed then moving to the window, she tugged the curtain back and proved her guess correct. 

There hovered a man who was identical to her real brother in every way, excluding his strange attire – a long black coat that covered him all the way to his knees, some sort of turtleneck underneath that, a pair of gloves and, interestingly, a sword on his back. It was the most conservative she'd ever seen her brother – or someone who looked like her brother – dress. 

Bulla opened the window with careful and quiet hands, then swung her legs out as she sat on the sill. She was small enough and the window was large enough, though the chilled night air caused her to hesitate instead of dropping straight out and down to the ground. Before she could, Trunks scooped her up and lowered her to the earth himself, like he was afraid the fall could actually hurt her. 

“How did you know this room was mine?” She whispered as they landed and he set her down. 

“Your energy,” he whispered back. 

“Oh. Right.” Remembering herself, Bulla lowered her ki so that her father wouldn't notice her doing anything suspicious. The two Trunkses inside would be dead to the world, but Vegeta wasn't a heavy sleeper and even when he was at rest, he still had hawk-like awareness of things going on around him. Bulla knew this because her father in the past was the same – there was no sneaking out at night for anybody. 

“We should move away from the house a little,” the man who looked like Trunks suggested in a quiet voice. “Saiyan hearing is better than you think.”

“Do you have a place you've been hiding in? You probably don't this notice because you're dressed for a snowstorm, but it's chilly out here. I don't want to stand here spending time explaining what's going on,” Bulla said, crossing her arms. 

“Mm. I have an idea. This way.”

Bulla nodded and followed the man as he moved off, towards the forest and off the manicured property. 

When they'd gone a little ways through the trees, the man stopped at an area where the vegetation thinned and reached into his coat. He was facing the opposite direction from Bulla, so she could only watch his back as he fished out whatever he was looking for and then threw it in front of him. 

The teen girl realized what kind of technology he was throwing a split second before the contents appeared from the smoke, and she gawked. 

There before her stood a time machine, unmistakable despite its differences with the other two. Even in the night, Bulla could see how much bigger and more sophisticated it appeared in comparison. 

She was also one hundred percent sure now that this was the craft her father and brothers had been talking about, and that this Trunks was the pilot. It seemed things were taking yet another interesting turn. Maybe there was another way out of this timeline after all. 

“I'll help you up. Believe it or not, it's temperature controlled in there,” he said with a hint of humour before offering a hand to her.

Once they were both up and over the side, Bulla settled in to her comfort. The cockpit was a lot roomier than the other ones, and even though there was only a single seat there was space for the two of them to sit on the floor cross-legged, facing each other. 

The glass top lowered, sealing them in. 

The man took a breath, let it out, then began speaking. “Okay, first things first. Bulma, I need to know how you got here and what's going on, before I accidentally reveal something I shouldn't.”

“Okay,” Bulla agreed. “Like you said, first things first: I'm not Bulma.”

Trunks stared at her, wide-eyed. “You're not?”

“No. My name's Bulla. Bulma is my mom.”

“Your mom? I – ... I see. Okay.” He seemed relieved. “In that case, I want to ask another question first. You know who I am, right?”

“Of course. You're my brother Trunks. Or at least you look like him.”

“Right. Um, earlier you mentioned something about there being two more of me. Are they both the exact same as I am?”

“Yes. Well, no actually. My brother that I came here with has the same haircut as you and looks about your age, and the other one has longer hair and looks a tiny bit older but is actually way older. Neither of them dress like you either, if you must know.”

“Alright then. Before I say anything about myself, please tell me how you got here, as accurately as you can remember how it happened. I promise to tell you why I'm here after that.”

“Well, okay then. It all started when I was minding my own business in mom's basement, everybody else was upstairs hanging out for the dumb new year's party. I was sitting in what I thought was a prototype time machine that mom had made, trying to have some space to myself when you – er, the other you who looks like you – barged in and decided to be a nosey parker and sat in the time machine with me. I told you to get out and I got mad when you didn't and then I tried slapping you but the kerfuffle wound up accidentally hitting buttons on the dashboard. Next thing I knew, we were here in the future.”

“I see. What year did you come from?”

“Last day of Age 793.”

“What happened after you got here?”

“The time machine got kind of busted, so Trunks and I walked around trying to find something familiar, but when that didn't work we tried Capsule Corp. That didn't work either, so we went to find Grandpa Son's house, but there was nobody there. That's when daddy showed up, but he's a lot older too.”

“Just to clarify, 'Grandpa Son' is...”

“Son Goku.”

“And I guess your father is...”

“Vegeta, yes. Anyway, after that we visited daddy's ship, and then he took us to the other _other_ you's house, the older one, because daddy said that Trunks could fix the time machine for us. After that, the old Trunks and I went and got the machine from this timeline, so that we have two copies of it for proper repairs and stuff. But then the old Trunks said that even when he's done fixing it, it could take, like, two years to charge up the battery so that we could go home. Also, daddy saw your machine parked beside the house earlier and they're all wondering about it.”

Trunks leaned back a little and held a hand to his chin. 

“... I see. That explains the distortion. Not as bad as I thought, but still... This is a problem.”

“Uh-huh. _Buuuuuuuut,_ you have this here time machine. I don't know how or why, but that's the reason you came here, isn't it, Mister Mystery Trunks? To fix this?”

“More or less.”

“So you _can_ fix it.”

“Well, yes, but it's not as easy as that. See, your arrival created a paradox and actually split the dimension in several ways. Although there's no way you could've known and your journey was an accident, time travel is strictly forbidden. Time is only supposed to flow in one direction – forward. If you interrupt that flow with any sort of tampering, there can be very bad consequences.” 

“Hm. You're here to fix a paradox, and yet having three versions of yourself at once, plus your time machine, isn't making it worse?”

“No. It's a long story, but to put it simply both myself and this craft are protected so that doesn't happen. However, that doesn't mean any domino actions because of me won't make it harder to solve this. I'd rather not go to extreme measures right away if there's another solution.” 

“Okay then. That means it's your turn to tell me who you are and how you're gonna clear this all up. My Trunks doesn't know anything about time travel, so why do you? Are you from another timeline too?”

Trunks' gaze had dropped to the ground; the man appeared deep in thought. However, after Bulla's question he met her eyes again. 

“Yes, I am. The reason I know so much about this is because I'm the first mortal to travel through time in all of the universe. Before my mother built the first time machine, only a select few gods had the ability. I used this power to try and reverse my timeline's terrible fate – in the end, I was the one who grew strong enough to change it, but my intervention created another reality where things passed differently. I know it happened some years before you were born, but I'm sure you've heard stories about the nightmare Cell and the Androids.”

Bulla made no effort to hide her stunned expression. This man – was he really...?

“Are you saying... Yes! You're the Future Trunks that was there during the Cell Games!” She cried, leaning forward in her excitement. She couldn't believe it. “I watched recordings of the TV footage! Mr. Son was pretty much my age and even then he was kicking a – I mean, kicking butt! I could see you and daddy there too!”

Trunks gave a faint smile. “Yeah. That was a while ago now, but even longer for you guys. But even though we saved the world, I did get in trouble for going back in time like that.”

“Oh yeah, so how did you even know there was a distortion or whatever here? You said something about there being a long story. Could you, like, give me a condensed version?”

“Condensed? Well, in short, I got in trouble with a certain Kai and I actually have to go around fixing deformations in the timeline to make up for it. The Kai told me to take care of this one personally, probably because she knew another me was involved. I have no doubt she'll hold this over my head too, though...”

All at once, Bulla and Trunks froze as their conversation was interrupted by the feel of someone's presence approaching their area outside. 

“That's my father, isn't it? And there's someone else with him,” Trunks said. 

“Oops,” Bulla replied. “Looks like they didn't stay asleep after all...?”

The lavender-haired man shook his head. “It doesn't matter anymore. Now that I know what's going on, there's no point in hiding. Let's go. They're going to want an explanation.”

As soon as the glass covering was lifted, Bulla jumped out of the craft first, already seeing the approach of her future father and real brother in the distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started writing this and had the whole plot laid out before Dragon Ball Super was even done its first story arc. And then Mirai Trunks showed up in the latest saga... and I was very tempted to adjust my story to include his new blue 'do (which I hated at first, but now it's growing on me). But I eventually decided to stick with the original Z hair colour, and the plot non-compliant with Dragon Ball Super, as I'd designed in the first place (even though some events of Super are mentioned – sorry about the confusion). Plus, my story borrows off the Xenoverse stuff, which also has Trunks with his original hair colour.


	9. Chapter 9

"I had a gut feeling it would be something like this," Trunks heard his father mutter. 

Trunks, internally gauging that this suspicion must've been there all along and thus was Vegeta's reasoning for dragging his son out of bed, didn't bother to reply. Trunks had already been awake, anyway – the older Trunks had fallen asleep and they'd left him at the house. 

However, that decision didn't appear like it was going to make things any less confusing. As Trunks approached the scene behind his father, the first thing he noticed wasn't the time machine, but the man who hopped out of it. 

Himself, yet again – the only difference between them this time being their clothes. 

They made brief eye contact, and his eyes were, as expected, the same shade as both the other Trunks', despite containing a more sombre note. But before saying anything to his counterpart, the new Trunks turned to address Vegeta first. 

“Father, it's good to see you again,” said the new Trunks. “You have... a bit of grey hair.”

Vegeta pursed his lips at the comment, but otherwise remained composed. “It's been a long time. What are you doing here?” His tone was straightforward, but not harsh. 

“You guys aren't gonna believe this,” Bulla interrupted, “but this is the Trunks from the Cell Games and he, like, works for a time lord now or something.”

“At this point, I am going to believe whatever you tell me,” Trunks said, scanning the newest version of himself. “I just really hope it isn't because somebody's trying to screw me around with a cloning machine or something.”

The new Trunks smiled. “No, again, no cloning. Like Bulla said, I'm you from an alternate future. Or past, in both cases now. The timeline we're currently in and the one you two are from are ahead of mine from when I left it, but nevermind that. I'm here to fix the anomaly in the continuum you've made.”

“Actually, Bulla made it, but that's beside the point. I heard the words 'fix' and 'continuum,' but before we get into that, I think we ought to take a step back and explain things so everybody's on the same page. I see my sister's already jumped the gun in that department, but dad looks really confused.”

“I'm not confused,” Vegeta said. 

“Okay, fine then. I'm confused,” Trunks continued. “You're me from, um, the future where the androids took over the world?”

“Yes. We've met before, actually, when you were a baby,” Future Trunks said. 

“Oh, wow. So you really are that guy.” 

Trunks had heard plenty of stories about the young man from the future, as he was the boy expected to grow up and be like him one day. However, Trunks had never expected to ever meet him – but the circumstances were haywire anyway, so he took it in stride.

“All things considered, I think it's best that we gather everyone together to work this out, my son included,” Vegeta said, referring to the oldest Trunks. 

“Do we have to? My head already kinda hurts thinking about there being three Trunkses, let alone that I had to deal with even one on a daily basis before this whole thing got started,” Bulla whined.

After Future Trunks returned his time machine to its capsule, the four of them began making their way back to the house, still populating the night air with questions from all sides. 

 

\---

 

“This has really turned out to be one giant clusterf – ... I mean, one giant mess,” the oldest Trunks sighed, scratching his head.

Everyone in the group stood or sat in the house's basement; in an effort to keep things less confusing they'd chosen to remain near where the pair of identical time machines were stationed. The newest Trunks' machine had been parked there as well, almost dwarfing the other two. 

“Exactly,” Bulla agreed. “In that case, before we do anything else, I need to give all you Trunkses separate names. This is gonna get confusing real quick if I don't.”

Trunks and his other two selves all acquiesced to the idea in the form of nods or muttered agreements. Off to the side, Vegeta could be seen rubbing the bridge of his nose, like the entire thing was ridiculous – Trunks himself agreed, but he felt like he was the most helpless and baffled of anyone. 

Bulla took turns pointing to the different versions of Trunks in order. “You're just plain Trunks, you're Future Trunks, and you can be Old Trunks.”

“But if they're both older than me, why am I Future Trunks?” Asked Future Trunks. 

“And I'm really not that old,” said Old Trunks.

“He started the time travel thing first. That makes him, like, future-y. And yeah, whether you look old or not, you're old,” Bulla said.

“First is a point of view, because time isn't a strict progression of cause to effect – although, I was still younger than that Trunks is now, so I suppose it works to say I did it first...” Future Trunks mused. 

“Y'know,” Trunks began, “I haven't exactly had the most ordinary life, but I think I can say with confidence that this conversation is one of the most bizarre things I've ever experienced. And I've been absorbed alive by a hot pink, nine foot tall monster while using a magic alien technique to share a body with my best friend.”

“This doesn't need to be any more confusing, man. I just woke up a few minutes ago. Let's all just roll with it,” Old Trunks said.

“It would also help,” Vegeta interposed, “if you were careful to speak only one at a time. Your voices all sound alike. Frankly, Trunks – that one there – is the one who should be doing most of the talking.”

Vegeta had been referring to Future Trunks by gesturing, but Bulla demanded her father use the nicknames 'like everybody else' until he agreed to do so. 

“Everyone, please. It might be best if we all take a seat while I explain why I'm here. After that, I can best work out how to fix this. Bulla's told me some things, but I want to hear it from you as well.”

“Listen to the Trunks from the future with manners, guys. He has a sword,” Bulla said as she sat down.

“Hey. Remember how I said that thing about there not being a brother competition here?” The Trunks from the past asked rhetorically, before copying his sister and settling to the floor. 

When the remaining occupants of the room had followed suit, Trunks spoke for himself and Bulla, revealing his side of events in detail. After that, Future Trunks began explaining the meaning behind his sudden appearance, mentioning the distortion that had brought him to the timeline. 

“Initially, I wanted to stay hidden until I knew what was going on. I'm not really supposed to talk to people, or actively participate, in other timelines unless necessary. I could potentially make it worse, and the butterfly effect, it can really... get out of hand. Time travel creates more problems than it fixes, believe me.”

“So I guess that's why you don't seem bothered by seeing two other yous sitting here like this,” Trunks said. “You're used to all this already.”

“Yeah. I've seen a few versions or echoes of myself before, besides you. Some with black or blue hair, some where we died when failing to defeat a villain – there were some timelines where I wasn't born at all, but most of the time I'm not in places to meet alternate copies of myself or people I know. The universe is a big place. Although, to my knowledge I'm still unique. I mean, I'm the only Trunks who found himself working for the Supreme Kai of Time. There are some details that are still a little unclear, though, so don't take my word for it.”

“Oh, wow. You must get to see so many different things,” Bulla mused. 

“Yeah, I've been to all kinds of different worlds and times. It's funny though – people out there in the universe know who we are, even in places you wouldn't expect.”

“What do you mean?”

“It's inevitable that stories turn into legends over time. Especially when it comes to Goku, but you'd be surprised of the ones you might hear about the rest of us, too.”

“That's pretty cool. So, what is it you do exactly in these places? Just unwind paradoxes, like you said?” Bulla asked.

“Sometimes. I look for the origin of the change in time, and the necessity of the new stream of events itself, but mostly, I... erase them.”

“Erase them? Why? What does that mean?”

Future Trunks pursed his lips before elaborating. 

“In general, the timeline gets changed because of something abnormal. Paradoxes are always bad, but rarer than you think. Sometimes changes just happen on their own, not because of someone's intentional messing around, and to keep things going smoothly I have to get rid of the holes – the other timelines. Think of time as an energy, like water going through a drainpipe. If the drainpipe leaks, water – energy – is lost.”

“Seems concise enough. But what does that mean for a situation like this?” Vegeta enquired. 

“All it means is that Trunks and Bulla can't stay here,” Future Trunks replied. 

“Noted. In that line of thought, Old Trunks said even once the broken machinery is replaced, it could take almost two years to recharge the energy we need to go home. Is that right?” Asked Trunks. 

“I'm not sure. Let me take a look,” Future Trunks offered as he stood and began approached the machines. He stopped, looking between the two identical ones until Bulla pointed out which one was broken and the man flew up to land inside it. 

Trunks and the others remained on the ground, listening to Future Trunks as he went on expatiating.

“Time machines use an incredible amount of energy to function. Yours look somewhat different and it seems to be more efficient than the one I first used, though unlike those designed for the Time Patrol, it still forms an alternate timeline.”

“For the what? I think you lost me,” Old Trunks said as the sound of the machine turning on could be heard. 

“The Time Patrol is... the name organization I work for. Nevermind that. Anyway, from looking at this, you probably started out with enough for a round trip, but you travelled seventy-five years and used it up – not to mention it got damaged. It's possible that such a giant strain on the 'battery' might have rendered the machine permanently irreparable.”

“In other words, we would've been stuck here because we didn't know what we were doing,” Trunks said. 

“Yes. You're almost lucky it formed a time distortion, because otherwise I wouldn't have known you were here and then you'd have been in real trouble. All of you, come up here. I can show you what the problem is.”

The four persons on the ground levitated up to see, Trunks carrying Bulla until she found footing on the side of the machine to support herself. 

The insides of the time machine were exposed again, revealing the glowing blue cylinders once more. 

“When mom was first designing the time machine,” Future Trunks began, “there was the big problem of it actually being scientifically possible. One theory of time travel is finding a way to move faster than the speed of light. However, since that would take an infinite amount of power to propel even something without mass beyond that boundary – and there aren't any Einstein-Rosen bridges or Tipler cylinders conveniently hanging around for us to use instead – options were limited.”

Trunks nodded, not sure how much of the information he was absorbing, but listened anyway. Everyone else looked to be in a similar boat as far as understanding the concept went. 

“But energy still has to be generated from somewhere, and the machine had to work. In trying to solve this, mom made two fundamental discoveries: she realized time had to be looked at like a grid instead of a line, and then, following more extensive work on particle physics she created this blue substance inside the power cylinders. They're simply called 'B' Particles, and they're what enables the time travel, via an attractive process much like the travel of complimentary electrons. However, the generator in the centre is what processes the energy from them, and that's the part that needs to recharge.”

“So... it wasn't like we accidentally left the parking break on or anything. The generator got overloaded after having to process too much power from the cylinders?” Bulla questioned. 

“To put it simply, yes,” Future Trunks answered. “Also, come to think of it, you didn't move the cylinders at all while trying to do repairs, did you? They really shouldn't be handled, as the substance inside is heavily radioactive.”

“Uh,” Old Trunks said. 

“Nope,” Trunks finished. 

“All this math and all these Trunkses are making my brain hurt. Also, it's like, nighttime,” Bulla sighed, hopping down to the ground. 

“This all sounds like gibberish,” Vegeta said with his eyes narrowed as he descended back to ground level with the others. 

“You're the one who married the mad scientist, dad,” Trunks said.

“I knew her the longest out of all of us here and I still don't understand it,” Vegeta responded. 

“I fly one around all the time, and there's still some things I don't understand either,” Future Trunks pointed out. “I just built on the foundation mom laid down to redesign my own.”

“Is that why it looks different?” Bulla asked, pointing at said time machine. 

“Yeah. I mean, all of us doing this type of work inevitably tweak our transportation to our own liking over the years.”

At that comment, Trunks wondered how many time travelling repairmen 'all of us' constituted, but Bulla chose to pursue a different line of questioning. 

“How long have you been doing this for?”

“Hm...” Future Trunks paused. “I'm not sure.”

“You don't know?”

“To be honest, I know how old I was when I started, but I've actually lost track of time since then, ironically. Since mom is always back home, the only being who would know would be the Kai. If I had to guess, I'm probably not a whole lot younger than Trunks from your timeline, biologically – if not the same age. I spent two years in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber as well. It seems like a strange thing not to know, now that you've mentioned it.”

“I rescind my earlier statement. I am confused,” Vegeta admitted. 

Trunks had found that, in speaking to both his older self and the newest addition, that the version from the ruined future was different than them both, despite his closeness in age with Trunks himself. His expressions were more closed, his movements more cautious. Like he'd spent his life watching over his shoulder. 

After noticing these details, Trunks had felt less conflated about his own sense of identity, realizing that all three of them were, in fact, different individuals. Even if their mannerisms and appearances were identical or very similar, the other two were people Trunks could have been, not copies of who he was. Contrary to his father's statement, he somehow felt the least confused he'd ever been so far. 

“Well, if you've been doing this for a while, you've probably been in similar situations to this before,” Bulla said – once again before Trunks could make any input. “That means you already know what you're gonna do to fix this. Any hope for us getting our version of the time machine repaired?”

“You could, but that's no longer the issue. Old Trunks is right about the time it'll take to charge, and I can't let you stay here that long,” Future Trunks said. 

“Can you take them home with yours?” Vegeta asked. 

“Technically, yes,” the lilac-haired man replied, “but there would still be the problem of what to do with the machine _they_ brought here. I can't just leave an anomaly like that, but I also doubt it's a good idea to allow them to take it home. And I don't want to bother the Kai as to what should be done with it.”

“Couldn't we just destroy it?” Asked Trunks.

Future Trunks became serious. “That's incredibly risky. If the machine was blown up, it could cause a massive rip in the spacetime continuum and plunge everything into a chaos of time fragments, wiping out all life in the universe.”

“Really?!” Bulla squeaked. 

“No, not really. That was a joke.”

The blue-haired teen let out a long sigh. “Ugh. I forgot that you're still my brother, no matter what version.”

“All the same, I don't know what will happen if we attempt to destroy it. You really shouldn't be allowed to keep it, so I suppose the only option is for me to take it and have it repurposed.” 

“That'll piss off mom,” Trunks muttered to himself so only he could hear. 

“What about our copy?” Vegeta asked. 

“It seems to be inert, so it can stay," Future Trunks answered.

“So, then... you can really take us home just like that in yours?” Trunks asked. 

“Of course. Sooner rather than later, but I understand you probably want to say your goodbyes.”

“I... Uh, yes,” Trunks answered, flabbergasted on how sudden things had become simple. 

This was it. He could say goodbye, and then they could go home.

Home. Home to his mother. Home to his father that hadn't regressed to loneliness. Home to his sister's bright future, home to Trunks' own. Friends, family, everyone – they were there, waiting, just a word away. 

Bulla's arms around him pulled him from this thoughts. 

“You hear that, Trunks? We can go home! _We can go home!”_

He looked down, eyes landing on his sister's mop of blue hair, her face pressed into his chest as he held him tightly. 

For once, neither sibling was being pressured into the hug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's some rather questionable science going on in this chapter, but even though some of it is made up, much of it is also based on real theories. I just tweaked the research I did, came up with some (very dubious sounding) techno-babble and voila!


	10. Chapter 10

Trunks – along with his father, sister, and two other selves – had chosen to visit the lookout for proper farewells instead of asking the residents there to return to the Earth below. 

Of course, as the proffered resolution to the time-travelling dilemma had come about during the night hours, the group had chosen to wait until the late morning for their visit. However, Trunks and Bulla didn't sleep the night through.

In the interest of having their biological clocks aligned to the past they'd be returning to, the two siblings had unanimously piled into Future Trunks' time machine, capsuled the other two devices, and he'd taken them to the next morning. He'd reassured everyone that his presence meant none of the future timeline would be reset, and they'd simply just skipped over several hours in a practical way. 

“Don't worry, we're not going to wind up with any more copies of anybody,” he'd said. 

After the blink-of-an-eye trip and the landing, the three of them went inside the house, Trunks and his sister going to their borrowed rooms to change back into the clothes they'd first arrived to the future in. Vegeta and Old Trunks had awoken a while prior, and once everyone was ready the five Saiyan-blooded people began their flight to Dende's roost in the sky. 

Once again, the lookout residents were waiting for them near the edge of the platform, though their cordial greetings became shocked or confused stares upon seeing not two, but three Trunkses descend onto the tiles, alongside Vegeta with Bulla in his arms.

“What on Earth have you done _now?_ ” growled Piccolo as he looked at the group of visitors. 

“Weren't you watching, Piccolo?” Dende spoke up. “That Trunks there is not the same as the other two. He arrived with a time machine.”

“I assumed that had something to do with it, but you think they wouldn't be careless enough to – oh,” he said, cutting himself off upon realizing what the Guardian of Earth meant. 

“I know who you are,” Eighteen stepped in, looking at Future Trunks. 

“Android Eighteen,” he replied, his posture going rigid. “And Android Seventeen. So you really have made something different of yourselves in this timeline. That aside...” 

He drifted off, his gaze going to the others gathered as welcome. “It's nice to see you after so long, Dende, Piccolo, Mr. Popo. And – and you, Gohan.”

Gohan scratched the back of his head. “Um, nice to see you too.”

Trunks realized that Gohan hadn't quite caught the gist of things. “Gohan, this is Trunks from the future who showed up to give Goku the heart medicine, right around the time myself and Old Trunks here were born.”

Gohan instantaneously brightened up. “Huh? Trunks, is that really you? I can't believe it! It's been so long, you haven't aged a day!”

After more salutations and smiles going around the group, Future Trunks spoke again, happiness evident on his features. 

“It's so nice to see you all again. Although,” he admitted, his expression shifting to confused, “I don't think I've ever met _you_ before.” 

The person – or being – in question was Majin Buu, who merely smiled and replied in his trademark childish voice.

“Me Buu, silly purple boy!” the pink humanoid said, and Future Trunks seemed to just accept it as he turned back to Gohan.

“It's a long story,” the eldest half-blood replied. 

“You wouldn't believe half the craziness we got into the years after you left,” Trunks added. 

“I could say the same,” said Future Trunks.

“Yeah, well, at least you didn't have to deal with Bulla growing up,” Trunks said.

“You're so mean. Can I take a different Trunks home?” the blue-haired girl pouted. 

 

\---

 

The group had spent a good deal of time explaining that this was Trunks and Bulla's final visit, the pair giving their goodbyes as they now had a way home. After a few final hugs and sincere words, Vegeta, Bulla, and all three Trunkses had left the lookout with parting waves as they took to the air. 

Eighteen had once again promised to give her answer after a little more thought, which Vegeta didn't seem to mind, as occupied with returning his children home as he was at the moment. In fact, it was the aforementioned point that had Trunks' attention, as he wondered what would become of his father after the situation was resolved. 

Old Trunks had apparently rejected Vegeta's request, but the younger Trunks felt sorry that his father would be leaving the only family he had behind. 

Therefore, Trunks resolved to have a few words with his older self to see what he could do about it. 

The five of them had flown back to the house to give the very last send-off, a more personal form of farewell with only Vegeta and Old Trunks remaining to bid the departing pair good luck. Future Trunks tagged along, of course, though he was maintaining a somewhat physical and emotional distance that Trunks did not miss – though he assumed it was because the other version of himself was simply accustomed to goodbyes like this often in his line of work.

Looking away from his youngest self, who was speaking to Vegeta a little ways off, Trunks returned his focus to his oldest self. 

“I'll be weird, with you guys gone. I was just getting used to having other people around, Dad – and Bulla – included,” Old Trunks mused.

“You could always convince him to stay. Dad, I mean,” Trunks replied. 

“I doubt it. You know how stubborn he is when he has his mind made up,” Old Trunks said.

“Yeah, we'll I'm stubborn too – we both are. You're gonna let Dad abscond into space by himself again, with maybe Eighteen going with him? I guess they do get along, but that's only because they're both kinda vain and are allergic to small-talk. Dad's colder moods alone are enough to freeze goldfish just by looking, so I can't imagine how unbearably stuffy things will be with the two of them put together.” 

Old Trunks smiled a bit. “He did ask me to go with him, just before you guys showed up. I told him no, but it didn't seem like he was going to give it up just like that. Then he came back with you two. It isn't that I want him to leave and never see him again. It's just that... the only others with Saiyan blood are here, excluding Goku. And Goten... I'm still waiting on the chance for his return. If I could convince Dad to stay, I would.”

It was the first time the man had given any true mention to Goten, but Trunks could tell it was a sensitive topic. Even though he and the youngest son of Goku had grown apart to a certain degree, Trunks didn't know how he would feel if the other simply left and never came back. They'd grown up together, even if their adult lives had taken different paths. He could understand why the chance of Goten's return would be a valid reason to stay.

“I think it's worth a shot to keep trying,” Trunks said. He didn't have any other advice to offer. Even if he found his own life to be like Old Trunks' after the years went by – which he doubted, knowing changes were inevitable – he would want his family to stay together. His father and sister included, although he didn't know what he could do about his mother. 

After more consideration, Trunks continued. “If Dad isn't connected to his grandkids, you're kind of the only family he has left. And, I don't mean to offend you when I say this, but you don't seem to be connected to your children either. I mean, you're about a hundred years old and you look like you're thirty-something, so I can understand where the issues might spring from...”

“My children know about their heritage, but my grandchildren don't. It's been a long time since the Earth has needed someone beyond ordinary human limits – we really are an aberration. But I also have human blood, and so I'll always feel a connection here. If Goku is really gone, Dad is the last of his kind. Piccolo will eventually come to the same problem, because he's so different he doesn't belong with the other Namekians. I have no idea who'll take care of Buu, since neither Mr. Satan nor Uub are around anymore.”

“If it's any consolation,” interrupted Future Trunks, who had exited his own conversation with Vegeta to approach his other selves, “Otherworld has even more to explore than you can imagine. Eventually you'll all get there, and you can have an eternity to be reunited. I can't imagine the Kais will be happy with the ruckus you guys will kick up, though.”

“That's right,” Bulla piped up, appearing from behind Trunks' back. “Maybe Grandpa Son's already there anyway, he can teleport too. And I can't imagine Daddy being happy to just leave and never see you again, even if it is to chase Pan's grandpa – but no matter what happens, we'll all see each other again, just like sword guy says. Plus, most of you have already been dead before.”

“That's true,” Trunks acknowledged, and his older self laughed. 

“What's true?” Vegeta asked as he approached. 

“Oh, we were talking about dying. Fun stuff,” Trunks said. “But I guess I should be talking about saying goodbye. Because for us, they're very different things, aren't they?”

Future Trunks took a step away from the conversation, summoning his time machine in a cloud of smoke. Trunks knew the other man was trying to give them some space for their last farewells. 

“Well, I know I'm gonna miss you,” Trunks said as he clapped Old Trunks on the shoulder, quite literally giving himself a pat on the back.

“Likewise,” Old Trunks returned as he pulled Trunks into a brief embrace. Then, Old Trunks turned to Bulla and did the same. 

“Gonna miss you too, Squirt,” he said. “Don't drive your brother too crazy, alright?”

“I'll try my best,” the blue-haired girl replied. Bulla then turned to Vegeta and plunged into his arms without warning. 

“I know I have another Daddy waiting for me back home, but I was really glad I got to meet you. I won't forget about you,” she said to him. 

Vegeta's reply was muttered so that only Bulla could hear it, but the fondness was obvious between the two. Bulla sniffled as she pulled away after a long moment of holding her father. 

Trunks shifted on his feet, unsure of how to proceed. 

“I know I'm going to be seeing you again in a few minutes,” he began, “but since it's a different you, I think I owe you a real goodbye.” Trunks outstretched his arm, offering a handshake. 

Vegeta took the offer, but instead of following through with the handshake he pulled Trunks into a hug as well. 

Trunks felt awkward for a second, then returned the embrace. 

“Bye, Dad,” he mumbled. 

Vegeta said nothing, but upon releasing he gave Trunks a look that communicated everything he needed it to. 

After a heavy moment of silence, Bulla trotted over to Future Trunks' machine and jumped the entire way up the side. 

“Alright! Let's do the time warp again!” she cried. 

“Enthusiastic as always, Princess,” Trunks said as he strode over and followed her lead. 

“What, you aren't happy to be getting home?” she asked. 

“No, I'm actually quite excited. Really looking forward to getting back and, you know, seeing my cat. Gotta have my priorities in order.”

Bulla punched him in the arm as he settled into the cockpit, laughing at her expression.

“So I was thinking,” Bulla said, changing the topic as Future Trunks hopped into the machine last, “if Shenron can grant almost any wish, shouldn't he be able to give Mom and Mrs. Chi-Chi and Mr. Krillin the same natural lifespans as their spouses? We should really look that up after we get home.”

“That – that's actually a good idea,” Trunks said. He didn't know why no one had ever thought of it before, but he supposed a situation like the one they'd been in forced them to confront the reality of such a matter. 

As the glass cover of the time machine descended, Trunks and his sister broke from their conversation to give a last wave to the two on the ground watching them go. When the lid clicked shut, the outside sounds became muffled, but that didn't stop all three half-bloods inside the machine from continuing their goodbyes until Future Trunks fired up the contraption.

Trunks didn't look away from his future father and future self until they began to fade from view as the device took off.

The first time he and Bulla had done this, Trunks had been panicking and hadn't thought to take notice what was going on outside the machine at all. Calm and aware this time, he was awed by the spectrum of colours that stretched on endlessly, swirling around and through each other, casting reflections through the glass covering. 

“That's incredible,” Trunks breathed, and was about to say more when his sister interrupted.

“Oh my god,” Bulla said, straightening up with a start. “I just realized I forgot my phone.”

Both men turned to look at her, Trunks from his seat on the floor and the other from the driver's chair, until they caught the teen's mischievous grin.

“Just kidding. It's right here,” she explained. 

“I swear to god, when we get home, I'm going to find a way for you to get grounded,” Trunks muttered.

“Nuh-uh. This entire thing was your fault, so you're the one who's gonna get grounded,” Bulla retorted.

“Bulla, I can't get grounded. The last time I was, I was fifteen, and it wasn't like I ever listened anyway.”

“Fine. You win _this_ round.”

“I'm getting the feeling that most of your conversations sound like this,” Future Trunks interjected.

“This? This is minor. Once when she was nine, she threw a motorcycle at me after my cat ate a sweater she left at my house,” Trunks said. 

“In my defence, I only threw it because animal abuse is wrong and you're strong enough to catch a flying vehicle. Plus, ripping trees out of the ground is a lot more work and you can't put those back together,” Bulla reasoned.

Trunks rolled his eyes and Future Trunks wore a contained smile. 

“So, on a different topic, how long does this trip take?” Bulla asked. 

“Only a few more minutes,” Future Trunks said, then paused as if he wanted to say something else. 

“You two... There's something you should know,” he continued in an odd tone after what seemed like an internal struggle. 

“Hm? Is something wrong?” Trunks asked. 

“Well, no, not anymore,” Future Trunks said.

Trunks raised an eyebrow. “Not anymore? You mean the time anomaly is fixed, right?”

Did his other self know something about their future or return home that they didn't?

“Yes. With your presence no longer there, the timeline has gone back to normal. But you can't ever return to that future,” the other Trunks said. 

“Yeah, I know – you said something about taking our copy of the time machine because it was illegal,” Trunks elaborated. 

“It isn't that. The future you were in... it's gone. It doesn't exist anymore. If you found a way to go back, nothing would be the same. They wouldn't even remember you.”

“What... What do you mean?” Bulla asked. 

“Just your presence there wasn't the only problem. Didn't you find it odd that I never worried about them having a time machine, albeit a broken one? Eventually, that Trunks could've learned how to repair it. Here's the thing – if the timeline had been sequenced properly, you would've arrived in a future where you two had been gone for those seventy-five years. That obviously wasn't the case,” Future Trunks said.

“I don't understand how that means it no longer exists. When you came back to defeat the androids, things happened differently both because of your interference, but also independently. I was told Goku got sick later than he should have,” Trunks enquired.

“That's right. But no mortal had ever had access to time travel before. When events differ so greatly between each other, it's almost easier to think of it like you've created another dimension. Your home timeline and mine are a good example of this. However, once I got involved with the Kai, things changed. Without intentional action on my part or hers, any new timelines created can be only ghosts. Those people were echoes of you and your loved ones and nothing more – it was your presences there that gave them life because they were just one potential future of yours. The moment you left that future, it was destined to become a shadow. I'm sorry.”

“Is that really true?” Bulla said.

“I'm afraid so. It's happened more times than you think,” Future Trunks explained. 

Trunks had known he was unlikely to, if ever, see those future versions of himself and his father again. Even so, he'd never considered that they would be erased altogether. They weren't just living out their lives forever separate – they weren't dead – they were gone like they'd never been there. 

Trunks stared at his hands, unsure of what to do with them. 

“I can assure you that your real loved ones are just as you left them. The only thing I have to tell you is that we're arriving about an hour or two after you first left. Travelling to the past is a different matter altogether,” Future Trunks said as he hit a few buttons on the panel in front of him.

The hum of the machine began to change frequency as it began its landing. 

“And I think it's only fair,” he went on, withdrawing something from his pocket, “that I let you keep your time machine. I know how much work Mom puts into her projects, and there might come a time when you really need it. I have no right to judge – besides, I'll know if you ever do use it.”

“Th – thanks,” Trunks said, surprised. He met his other self's eyes, which blinked back with understanding.

“Wait. What about you? Will we ever see _you_ again?” Bulla cut in. 

Future Trunks gave a soft smile. “No, but you never know for sure. I think I'll be seeing you again before you see me.” He then turned away to look out over the rim of the machine as the glass lifted. 

“We're right outside Capsule Corp. Actually, we're on the roof. I don't think it'll be long before your energy will catch everyone's attention. Remember, you've only been gone a little over an hour,” he said as he leaped out of the device. 

Trunks and Bulla climbed out, a chill nighttime breeze rustling their hair as they confirmed they were indeed on the roof. The time machine vanished as Future Trunks returned it to its capsule. 

“I can keep myself hidden until I'm sure everything is normal,” he said. 

“But wait, what do we tell everyone?” Trunks wanted to know. “How do we explain where we were and how we got back? Will it mess time up if we say anything?”

“You can tell them what you need to, but try to keep me out of it. I'm supposed to be incognito, remember?” Future Trunks smirked, making Trunks wonder whether the other man was serious or not. 

Trunks did not have time to ask before Future Trunks gave the two disoriented siblings a gentle push off the roof. 

“Wai- _ahhhh!_ ” Bulla wailed, grabbing onto her brother as they tumbled over the edge. 

In his surprise, Trunks hadn't had time to catch himself, so he landed against the familiar, manicured lawn as Bulla's cushion.

“Argh... Trunks, you jerk!” the teen growled as she rolled off her brother to sit in the grass. 

“I think your elbow punctured my liver,” Trunks groaned from where he was still sprawled out.

“Come on, let's go, I want to find Mom and Dad. They can't be that far off,” Bulla said as she got to her feet. 

“Oh no, I think I'm having sudden organ failure, you'll have to go on without me,” Trunks exaggerated with a dramatic sweep of his arm over his face. He was miffed that she'd pulled him off the roof; even though he'd already been pushed, he wanted to pester her. He felt giddy now that he was home, regardless of whether he had reunited with his family yet or not. 

“Stop being weird,” she demanded, grabbing his wrists and trying to move him. “This isn't the time for your stupid sense of humour, come on, I wanna go.”

He refused to get up and she proceeded to start dragging him across the lawn by his arms, griping all the while as he laughed at her. 

“Trunks, cut it out,” she whined. “You're heavier than you look, but that's probably because you seem to have rocks in your skull instead of a brain. You're not funny.”

“You're the one willing to drag me all the way across our parents' front lawn,” Trunks said. 

Abruptly, there was a brief movement in the air and then it was replaced with Son Goku, who withdrew his hand from his forehead and widened his eyes. 

“There you are, lil' princess!” the man greeted in relief. “Everybody's been looking for you and your brother! Where – um...” 

The Saiyan trailed off as he looked at Trunks laying on the ground, with Bulla still clasping his wrists. 

“Uh, this isn't what it looks like,” Bulla said, releasing her brother. 

Trunks suppressed a chortle and rolled to his feet, dusting himself off. 

“Goku! It's you,” he said, regaining his composure. Trunks then noticed that he felt unusual, an instant later realizing it was the weight of Goku's aura. During the days the half-bloods had been gone, Goku's overpowering ki had been, of course, absent – it was strange, having to readjust to the strong presence once more.

“I think I should be surprised! Where have you guys been?” the Son patriarch said. 

“Well, we -” Trunks began, but Goku cut him off. 

“Wait, wait, hold on a sec, I'm gonna go get the others. Your parents are worried, wait right here,” Goku said before putting his fingers back to his forehead and vanishing just as he'd come. 

The pair of siblings stood there in the aftermath of Goku's whirlwind, waiting in silence for his return. On a whim, Trunks turned to look up at the roof, where he knew his other self was still waiting. 

“You have grass in your hair,” Bulla noted out of nowhere. 

Trunks turned back to give her a look, brushing his hands through his hair to dislodge any plant blades. He was still doing so when Goku reappeared – with company. 

Trunks froze in place as he met his parents' eyes. 

"Mom! Daddy!" Bulla squealed, dashing forwards to hug her father and mother. Vegeta looked surprised, but his relief soon echoed Bulma's as he returned their daughter's embrace, though the teen's momentum had almost knocked them over.

While Goku vanished again, presumably to fetch everyone else, Trunks moved forward to join his family hug – to hold his living, breathing mother, and his father who looked young and had an air of vitality as he should.

Trunks felt small pangs in his heart as he followed his sister, seizing their parents in an embrace. 

The four of them wound up in a tangled bear hug, Bulma reciprocating the embrace despite her confusion and Vegeta going along as well, albeit embarrassed over the affectionate display. Both Briefs parents were asking questions, but the words were lost in the wake of their children's joy. 

When Bulla's relief became weeping, the hug had untangled somewhat to the teen girl clinging to Vegeta and Trunks picking his mother up and spinning her around. 

“Eek! Trunks, not so fast! What on Earth...” Bulma cried as Trunks responded and stopped the exuberant motion. 

“I missed you so much, Mom,” Trunks said, giving her one last squeeze before releasing her. 

It was at that moment that Goku reappeared, bringing with him everyone else who had been at the party. 

Amongst the many questions now peppering the air, most managed to quiet down as a few select persons in the gathering began their interrogation.

“You scared us all half to death!” cried Pan, making soothing rubbing motions on Bulla's back, who was still clinging to Vegeta.

"Where did you go?! You've been missing for over an hour!" cried Goten, grabbing Trunks' shoulders.

“Were you trying to give your feeble human mother a heart attack?” cried Vegeta as he continued to hold his daughter. 

“Did you just call me feeble? I swear, if our kids weren't already in more serious trouble, _you_ would be,” Bulma retorted, shifting her attention for a moment.

“Trunks, I'd like a statement in five words or less telling us where you both have been. Right now,” Vegeta demanded. 

"Er... On a field trip?" Trunks supplied. He couldn't name a specific place to his father because they hadn't _been_ in one specific place. Unless 'the future' counted as an accurate enough depiction.

“A field trip?” asked Goku with more than a little excitement in his tone. “Why didn't you invite – ow!”

The man was interrupted as Bulma pinched his arm hard enough for him to get the message.

“Could you be a little more _specific,_ Trunks?” Vegeta commanded.

“Well, we... We were actually...” Trunks turned his eyes back behind him, towards the rooftop.

It was empty. 

A soft wind tousled Trunks' hair as his gaze lingered on the vacant place for a long pause.

“Trunks? What is it?” Bulma asked. 

“Nothing,” the violet-haired man said, turning back to face everyone. 

Bulla took the moment to wipe her eyes and clear her throat. 

“It's a long story,” she said. 

 

\---

 

A meteor shower graced itself in the foreground of the stars, and Bulla cooed. 

After giving a rough explanation, which Trunks knew would warrant more in-depth questioning at a later time, everyone had been satisfied enough to return to the New Year's festivities and stargazing. Blankets were laid out on the grass, guests grouped all over them to have a comfortable place to view the cosmos. As it was later in the night, the stars were clear and bright as lanterns hanging in the sky. 

Most, if not all, of the Earth's protectors were in attendance, everybody taking the time to catch up or just spend time with each other. No distinctions were made between who welcomed whom – Gohan laughed over a joke with Yamcha; Krillin held Vegeta's attention with some story. Trunks noticed that even Uub had arrived at some point, chatting with his mentor Goku.

Trunks sat with his sister. Both of them were quiet, regaining the feeling of being home again, absorbed in the surreal esthesis of their return.

Trunks still had the paper in his pocket, with the date of Bulla's onset of sickness that he'd already memorized. He hadn't mentioned it to anyone – not yet. He would wait until the time was right, when the celebrations were over. 

“Well,” Trunks said as he broke from his thoughts, “I really did get you out to see the stars like Mom asked.”

“They are beautiful,” Bulla admitted. She tightened her coat around herself, then leaned into her brother for more warmth. Trunks could tell she was drowsy; so was he. 

"We should all go explore them more some time. Without the crazy alien battles that brought us there the last few runs-around,” Trunks remarked.

"But there's so many of them. How will we know where to go?" his sister replied with a yawn.

"We're orbiting just one in a thousand stars, here. Does it matter as long as it's somewhere new?"

“I guess not. But if Earth is just one little place, what about all those stories you tell me? Events that changed the universe happened right here with you to see them. And even then, so much happened out there too. You'd have to live forever to see all those stars.”

“This world may have only one moment set aside for each of us,” Trunks replied, “and maybe we won't get to see it all. But who wants to live forever, anyway?”

When Bulla didn't answer, Trunks looked at her to confirm she was drifting asleep. 

He smiled to himself and returned his focus to the stars above. 

“Aw, that's so cute,” Bulma whispered, approaching with Vegeta and Goku in tow. “I can't believe you two are getting along well enough for her to sleep on you.”

“You get to take a turn as soon as the pins and needles start,” Trunks said with a smirk.

Bulma and Vegeta sat down next to their son and sleeping daughter, Goku remaining standing nearby with his hands on his hips as he looked up. 

“Look at all those shooting stars. I wonder how many wishes that is,” Goku commented.

“Maybe you should fly up and catch me one,” Bulma joked. However, Trunks knew from the look on the Saiyan's face that he'd taken the idea as a serious one. 

“Hey, yeah, good idea! Come on, 'Geta, let's see who can get one for Bulma first!” he challenged. 

“You're ridiculous, Kakarot,” Vegeta said, but Trunks rolled his eyes as his father got up to answer the contest anyway.

“Last one to the stars is a rotten egg!” Goku called out as he took off into the sky, Vegeta only a moment behind.

Trunks watched the glow of their auras shrink as they flew away, blending into the night heavens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you may recognize one of Trunks' lines in this chapter. It's based off a song by Queen – “Who Wants to Live Forever.” I just recently heard the original of this tune (apparently, I've been listening to a cover all this time) and as I was composing this final chapter, it just kind of... fit. 
> 
> A thanks to everyone who reviewed/commented, and to all who took the time to sit down and read this. I hope this was a satisfying conclusion to something that was meant to be a lot shorter when I came up with it. All the ideas I penned down really did change the flow of the story, enough that the details surrounding the basic concept made it turn out quite different than I first pictured.
> 
> Once again, thank you all for reading, and Happy Holidays!


End file.
